Autumn Sonata

Walking across the street , I set up my easel against the setting sun, and started to get ready to paint this view of trees back lit by late afternoon sunlight. There is something very autumnal about this view so typical of this time of the year.  Soon I was joined by Brandon Sun photographer Colin who came to take pictures of me painting as part of  his photo-journalist assignment of documenting a typical day of an ordinary Canadian life. Apparently all newspaper photographers are doing this all across Canada today!  It was simply so delicious to paint at this time of the year when it was still so warm. While painting, English poet John Keats' " Ode to Autumn" kept on intruding into my vision. Here it is which I still can recall from my deep memory, especially the last stanza 

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.