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[no1248]

[petaltexturedskies]

Virginia Woolf, in a diary entry dated 15 October 1930, from Diary of Virginia Woolf: Vol. III: 1925-1930

[petaltexturedskies]

At no other time than autumn does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost.

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters on Cézanne

[01libra]

Broad Campden, Cotswolds, England.

[kmnysak]

[janettasworld]

[winedark-maverick]

i love you green. i love you forests. i love you smell of damp earth. i love you feeling before the storm breaks. i love you moss. i love you rivers. i love you streams. i love you thunderstorms. i love you sunlight shining through leaves.

[lstnrr]

[lovelolla]

[curv]

[saltywiings]

[w-i-n-t-e-r-]

[block]

[ur-daily-inspiration]

Halloween background

[katevav]

[frawth]

[kieljamespatrick]