Autumn

Every time I drive past this row of trees I think to myself that I should stop and photograph them. They are so beautiful.
And in celebration of the greatest playwriting that ever lived ... A midsummer night's dream

And thorough this distemperature, we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose,
And on old Hiems’ thin and icy crown
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set; the spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world,
By their increase, now knows not which is which.
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension
We are their parents and original.