an autumn playlist

This is my favorite season.  The colors, the crisp air, the coziness of it all...I look forward to it every year.  And since we live in Indiana now, we get a true, true fall.  Our city is filled with colors of crimson, and burnt orange, and mustard yellow.  It's so beautiful and I wish I could bottle it up and send it to all my Louisiana friends.  Although it's pretty green still can see a few colors starting to peak out from the trees.  It's exciting to welcome a new chapter of change. 

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I have a playlist on Spotify that will help you get in the seasonal mood.  It is a little back country, a little this and a little that.  Most importantly, it's relaxing.  I play it on and off throughout the day, and it really helps set my mood.  I love listening to it while I cook or while Pier and I play in the living room.  You can find me under "emilyfossier" I think.  Enjoy!

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them —
The summer flowers depart —
Sit still — as all transform’d to stone,
Except your musing heart.
How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.

Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!

The dearest hands that clasp our hands, —
Their presence may be o’er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh’d our mind,
Shall come — as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind — view not the woods;
Look out o’er vale and hill-
In spring, the sky encircled them —
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn’s scathe — come winter’s cold —
Come change — and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne’er be desolate.
— The Autumn by Elizabeth Barrett Browning