It’s that magical time of the year when the weather turns cool. The oppressive heat and humidity of a South Carolina summer races from experience to remote memory.

I never learned enough of the Russian language in College to actually read literature, but I did come across Pushkin’s poem, Осень (Autumn) in English translation and it was so very true to life. Autumn is the very best season. A brief excerpt:

Every autumn I blossom anew; the Russian cold is good for my health; once more I relish the everyday habits of life. Sleep comes at its proper time, and so does hunger; my heart beats lightly and joyfully, desires seethe, and once again I am happy, young, and full of life—such is my organism (if you will, please, excuse this unnecessarily prosaic term).

About Kevin

Just an old guy with opinions that I like to bounce off other people.
This entry was posted in Personal and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *