Even if something is left undone, everyone must take time to sit still and watch the leaves turn.
A few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and
was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made. The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as autumn air. Eric Sloane
Over the river and through the wood,
To grandfather’s house we go;
The horse knows the way
To carry the sleigh,
Through the white and drifted snow.
Lydia Maria Child, Thanksgiving Day, 1845