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. 'To Autumn' - John Keats
There’s something I come back to every Autumn, it’s comforting, warming without being bright, sumptuous without being brash or decadent, a perfect complimenter to the sounds and smells of Autumn.
It’s the colour Maroon. The perfect companion of burnt orange, honey yellow and wine red. A sweet accent against green and a standout splash against black. Perfect in the softest fabrics, cords, cotton, velvet, felt, and those with a lustre like silk and satin.