Line(s) of the Day #ToAutumn #Yeats

John-Keats pic

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too –
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue

From the last stanza of To Autumn by the beloved English romantic poet John Keats (1795 – 1821). Despite his hugely untimely death at aged 25, Keats is still considered one of the greatest ever poets. You can my other favourite lines from his Ode to a Nightingale poem here.

Film Quizzes: Autumn/Fall

Being an Autumn baby, it’s always been my favourite season. It’s not too hot or cold, it’s cheaper to travel, there’s Halloween, it’s a great time to show off your new long sleeved tops and leaves falling from the trees makes for wonderful photographs. That’s not forgetting the beautiful scenic mist shots available.  So I thought it was about time I did a quiz on films set during the season or with memorable scenes during it. Which is your favourite season?  How did you do in the quiz?

film-quizzes-autumn-film-1  1. (1950s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-2 2. (1970s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-3 3. (1980s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-4 4. (1980s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-5 5. (1980s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-6 6. (1980s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-7 7. (1990s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-8 8. (1990s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-9 9. (1990s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-10 10. (1990s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-11 11. (1990s)

film-quizzes-autumn-film-12 12. (2000s)

Answers below

Continue reading

Gr8at: Autumn Mist Photographs

I don’t normally post two Gr8ats concurrently, but I saw a article on the BBC website that really caught my eye. BBC Autumnwatch asked the public to send in their photographs of Autumn Mist and they put them on their website here. The eight photographs below are my favourite. Is there one that stands out to you? Is Autumn the season you like most?

Continue reading

Creative: The Hand of Nature

The cold, transparent, frozen, hand of Winter
with its heavy, shivering, fingers
and sharp yet fragile claws,
touches all it can see,
covering three season’s worth of nature
with its web of glass,
and the haunting words it uses
confirms its work has been done.

Spring’s hand gently yet forcefully
pushes Winter aside
with its leafy green, smooth, steady fingers,
and removes all of Winter’s trace
with a few brief touches
that have been rehearsed for so long,
concluding with a lovely melody
that it sings quietly with perfect rhythm.

Summer’s decorated, dextrous, talented hand
joyfully arrives,
waving goodbye to spring,
while at the same time
summoning the rest of the animal kingdom,
who are attracted,
by the infinite shades of yellow,
and the hypnotically enchanting
wordless song sung with such happiness.

Autumn’s hand gives a quiet signal
to the ever rejoicing Summer,
before the ever different creatures
are warned
by the warm, comforting, auburn
cloak more than hand,
through repeated murmers,
that those heavy, shivering fingers
are not far away.