The Dawson news. (Dawson, Ga.) 1889-current, 1920-10-26
OCTOBER DAYS.


poets have tried to reproduce the enchant-
ment of color and tone on canvas. But both
are counterfeits. The brain of man cannot
describe the serenity of an October day. The
hand of man cannot paint the tints and
shades, the lights and shadows of an Octo-
Der day. There is soul impressing senti-
ment about the month that strikes deep into
the mind and heart of those who look with
delight upon the changes in nature. The
woods put on the maturity of life. The pur-
pie and orange and gold of the leaves are
so blended, in the landscape that there is
harmony, though the combinations are those
of nature in her random mood The flowers
that delighted the eye in the summer have
become the maturity of seeds. The stalks
that stood upright with their establishment
of velvet leaves have discarded all and now
stand like an aged warrior at the sentinel
post, defying the forces of the elements I'M
til the last seed pod is brought to refined
perfection The crickets sing their discord-
ant harmony while hidden under the new
fallen leaves Each has a different pitch,
but all blend into song strident yet melo-
dious.
The sun as he travels his course through
the heavens still brings the warmth of mid
summer as he reaches the zenith of his path
way, but as the shadows lengthen in the
declining afternoon there comes a GOODNESS
which grows into chilliness that reminds one
that October is the vestibule of winter. The
persimmons glow amid the foliage. The
sumach is crowned with red like an oriental
potentate The mullen stalks stand with
cred in the vacant places. The leaves of the
forest trembe in the struggle to retain the
life fast departing.
There is a serenity in an October scene
which no other month of the year brings
1t is the time of calm, of repose, of sereni-
ty, of tranquility. The struggle for life, for
growth, for perfectioMkin nature is in the
background. The harvest of nature has come
All that remains is to fold the tents of life
and enter upon the winter of sleep. Between
the summer of growth and the autumn of
garnering October lies like an enchanted
land that divides activity from inertia. No
wonder nature has embelished it with the
elements that arouse the sentiments and en-
trance the soul.
Nature stands in October and looks back
upon the time of termination, now so far
in the past; upon the time of energy and
growth, now almost thing apart; upon the
time of the harvest. not yet forgotten, but
in the distance. 1t surveys the seed time,
the growth and the harvest. And now
comes the garnering. When that is done ma
ture closes the book, shuts the door and
retires to that slumber from which it will
awaken only when the stirring of the inner
life, the mystery of which no man has
fathomed, calls it again to the performance
of the cycle of the seasons.
October has been so since in the aeons
of the past the earth responded to the
warmth of the sun, the vitalizing of the
rains, the combination of materials from
the laboratories of the Omnipotence to pro-
duce the root and stalk and leaf and flower
which eliminate in the perfect plant now
ready to pass from the scene which it grac-
ed to the oblivion of eternity.