The autumnal rays of the sun are not garish now as they send long, misty shafts of light streaming over the fields to touch the undergrowth of the forest and turn the trunks of trees to massive gold. Our vagabondage is careless and without direction; it takes us along the brook, through the wood-path, through a sheep-pasture, or over the hill where cows are grazing, in search of that most precious of all flowers, heart'sease. It even takes us to places where our feet cannot stray, but the mind images what has been.
There is a pungency of sweetness in the autumnal scents; mint and sage and flagroot and lobelia-flower seem to mingle their smells in a braided strand of invigorating flavor. The fields are never so good as at this season when the winds blow over them with fresh life and vigor. To stand on a hilltop in the cheery autumn breeze and view the four quarters of the globe is a benediction. Nature does not say to you, Come here, and I will read you a lesson, preach you a sermon, or deliver you a lecture. She says, Just come to me, and I will steal into your heart an influence like the perfume of the autumn pasture, or the freshness of the western breeze.
Autumnal Scents from The borderland of country life By Augusta Larned