# Autumn in the Pacific Northwest ORB Feel & Experience · film adaptation · English · recorded film transcript Poetry quotations are from the public-domain editions documented in the ORB. Original transitions and invitations are new companion prose. This film uses excerpts, except Dickinson’s brief poem, which is read complete. ## 1. Arrive in the golden light Autumn in the Pacific Northwest. A little poetry for the crisp days ahead. Let yourself settle for a moment. Imagine the coolness of the air at your face, and leaves gathering beside a path. These are real photographs from Seattle and Portland. The walk that joins them is imagined; the poets bring voices from other places. We begin with John Keats, and the opening of To Autumn. Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; ## 2. A canopy of gold Under the golden canopy, follow one dark branch until it disappears into the leaves. Perhaps your next autumn walk will offer a moment like this: somewhere ordinary, suddenly worth stopping for. Let the color stay with you as the path turns toward a small red maple. ## 3. A scarf of scarlet Come close to the fine points of these maple leaves. Orange rests beside scarlet; small shadows gather between them. Emily Dickinson makes a companion of the season. This is Autumn, in its early published version. The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I'll put a trinket on. ## 4. A little color to carry Imagine one fallen leaf beside the sleeve of your coat. You chose it simply because the color caught your eye. You can leave it gently where you found it. The small moment comes with you. Farther along the imagined path, sunlight gathers in a different shape: little yellow fans. ## 5. Room for delight Look into the yellow of this Seattle ginkgo. Some leaves hold the light alone; others overlap into a single bright place. Paul Laurence Dunbar lets autumn be playful. From Merry Autumn: Now purple tints are all around; The sky is blue and mellow; And e’en the grasses turn the ground From modest green to yellow. ## 6. Small fans of sunlight You do not have to arrive cheerful to spend a little time with this brightness. Let one yellow leaf be enough. Picture it turning in the air, then settling among the others. As your attention opens again, a whole tree comes into view, carrying the red of October. ## 7. October, in full color In Seattle Japanese Garden, a red crown stands among quieter greens. Let your gaze rest where those colors meet. Helen Hunt Jackson opens her sonnet October with these lines: The month of carnival of all the year, When Nature lets the wild earth go its way And spend whole seasons on a single day. ## 8. Stay with the passing light Jackson’s full poem gives death a place within the splendor. You can leave that sharper note intact. Perhaps the leaves feel more vivid because their colors are passing. Perhaps, today, you simply want to look. Both can have their space. The afternoon leans toward evening, and a smaller warmth waits along the path. ## 9. Something bright in all These Discovery Park leaves were photographed in nineteen eighty-three. Red glows within green on the same leaf. Let that color suggest the warmth of an imagined fireside. Robert Louis Stevenson ends Autumn Fires this way: Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all! Flowers in the summer, Fires in the fall! ## 10. A leaf holds the light Picture resting a comfortable distance from the warmth. The evening air is cool, and your hands have somewhere easy to settle. The photograph gives you leaves; the fire belongs to the poem and to this small dream. A little farther on, imagine a shelter, a table, and a place for one last guest. ## 11. Let the season stay awhile William Blake invites Autumn itself to come under a roof and rest. From To Autumn: O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof; there thou mayst rest, The season becomes a guest with a voice, and later a departing figure. Let the personification move as freely as a dream. ## 12. Take the quiet with you The final photograph opens onto a leaf-covered path in Discovery Park. Green remains overhead. Gold lies underfoot. The walker has a story beyond this frame. You can leave it open, and picture a path of your own. Notice the surface supporting you now. Let a sound nearby become clearer. Move your hands, or look toward the window. In the weeks ahead, perhaps take a poem with you into a crisp Northwest day. Let a few lines keep you company. All six complete poems, the photographs, and the guided walk are in the Autumn in the Pacific Northwest ORB. The link is below. For now, let the imagined path recede. There is still a little autumn light to notice.