🍂🍂🍂DONALD CULROSS PEATIE, ALMANAC FOR MODERNS, 1935 🍂🍂🍂 November 14 Gone to seed. They are drear words, and men have turned them to imply failure. In Nature they mean success. Now the wild yam in the woods has torn open its tropical papery pod, and from its fine symmetry upon the immemorial plan of three, the seeds escape. Old warty milkweed pods, silvering from their summer greeny purple, split open now, and a glistening mass of down around the flat brown seeds emerges between the valves. The goldenrod is a turret of inflorescence in fulvous and gray tones; a breath of winter wind will bring the cobweb castle down. The heads of the cotton-grass, that is no grass, but a sedge, fleck the horizontal scenery of the bog with their great puffy tufts, some white, some brown, borne on tall slim culms, delicately and disdainfully above the burned out peat. Summers prettiness has gone to seed, and become beauty. Beauty, great beauty, is for me the fitting of the object to its use, the truth of things. And the truth about this season is that now the very birds are in their winter molt; the colors of the little mammals fur are one with the bronze and silver of the wood, and that, happily, in the fields the flowers have gone to seed. [images 3-6 by Kim Todd]
Posted on: Mon, 17 Nov 2014 18:54:46 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015