A Good Home, A summer day in autumn, Arabella Magazine, Architecture and Design, Autumn, Canadian Art, Canadian Design, Cynthia Reyes' magazine stories, Magazines

One Summer Day in Autumn

Arabella  – the arts and architecture magazine — has been called one of the world’s most beautiful publications.

And so it is, publishing gorgeous art and design from across Canada in a sumptuous glossy publication each quarter.

I’m honoured that my feature stories are a staple of Arabella.

“One Summer Day in Autumn” is featured in this issue.

Do have a read and let me know what you think, please. It’s a different style of writing for me:

http://arabelladesign.com/One_Summer_Day_in_Autumn_Fall2014.htm

And enjoy a look at Arabella. Perhaps you’ll agree that it is one of the world’s most gorgeous publications:

http://arabelladesign.com/current_issue.htm

My best to you,

Cynthia.

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54 thoughts on “One Summer Day in Autumn”

  1. Wow Cynthia! What a beautiful article. Your words sing with passion, wisdom and a cadence. They invite us to walk with you in reflecting the passing of summer and the approach of winter, but not today, because today we rest in appreciation for the glory of autumn. 🙂

    How’s my summary? Almost feels like I channeled your voice. 🙂

    Congratulations on being featured and published!

    1. Your summary is perfect, Brad. “…today we rest in appreciation for the glory of autumn”. How beautiful.
      Arabella is the magazine that helped me return to writing. The editor, Debra Usher, heard that I had stories all over my house and asked if she could publish one in every issue. She’s done that for three years now.

  2. Love it! I can see, hear smell and taste everything. It is all so familiar to me. I love autumn even though as you say “winter waits in the wings”
    I hope you keep writing as it brings so much pleasure.
    Blessings to you!

  3. You’ve captured to perfection the end of one season and beginning of the other.The bounty and the beauty of Autumn given with such generosity is captured by the flow of your pen. Made my throat tight and eyes misty, it was so beautiful. That’s some talent you have, Cynthia. 🙂

    1. It was a strange feeling as we stood there at the podium at the Awards ceremony – Hamlin and I physically supporting each other.

      I blurted that I could hardly believe that he had been able to attend the whole two-day event just three+ weeks after his critical illness. (Especially since I went home to rest each day.) Embarrassed him, of course.

      As we say often, “Thanks be to God.”

      1. I could tell you were sort of holding each other up. It was lovely to see. I hope Hamlin is resting up this weekend. In the days when my parents were still going for walks, people would comment how sweet it was to see an elderly couple walking hand in hand. My father’s response was always this, ” Nothing sweet about it. If we didn’t hold hands, we’d both fall down.” Which in fact is a very sweet thing to acknowledge.

  4. The way you weave imagery and the elements into your story is equally as sumptuous as a compliment to Arabella’s glossy art. Your comment ‘The poetic movement of the seasons’, is most prevalent in the change from summer to fall. Unlike winter to spring and into summer, it is as if the switch is turned and fall appears. I think we can all benefit from pause, to listen, hear our niggling voice, and follow.

  5. Let’s see if I can get this into words… You write beautifully about the sense I have every autumn: the blessed days of gentle weather before ugly winter comes with it’s bleak cold. For the first time, this year, I’ve grasped why autumn is a time of blessing, the time of harvest and reaping the fruit of the long summer’s effort. Having bounty to get through that long winter. Comparing this to the autumn of life. Will I allow my life to enter the season of autumn, or will I stay in summer until autumn crashes in on me?

    1. Beautifully and powerfully said, Aggie. You reinforced the underlying theme and the questions being asked in this poem.

      A friend of mine, in the autumn of his life, was just about to go off and do a daring thing. He read this poem, while sitting at his desk at home in S. Africa and immediately recorded it on his phone and sent the recording to me. I could barely breathe, listening to his voice reading my poem, from so far away. And I silently wished him a summer day in his own autumn.

      1. Good for him! At 57, I am still living a summer life, and know that I am being true to myself. Wonder when autumn will come, or if I will be like that Aesop character who did not put by for winter.

  6. Beautiful. You really captured autumn. How was it going from a warm climate to one that had defined seasons? I moved in the opposite direction and waited many months in the heat for a hint of a familiar fall. Your writing brings me back to the autumns I no longer experience.

    1. Thanks, Julie. I find poetry weird to write. I can’t just sit down to write a poem, unlike prose where I have the intention, then find a way to say it.
      Poetry kinda sings in my heart – or it starts to — and I grab paper and pen or computer and write quickly.

  7. A really beautiful and evocative poem. You merge the descriptions of what you usually do in Autumn with your thoughts on the beauty of nature. You took the opportunity of an unexpected summer-like day to stop and stare and think and write – and I am glad you did.

    1. Thank you, Clare. I’m glad you like it. It’s kind of a cross between prose and poetry and I don’t quite know what to call it, but that’s the way it came out of my heart, so that was that.

      1. Nobody seems to know for sure, but the Old Farmer’s Almanac says this about it: “The most probable origin of the term, in our view, goes back to the very early settlers in New England. Each year they would welcome the arrival of a cold wintry weather in late October when they could leave their stockades unarmed. But then came a time when it would suddenly turn warm again, and the Native Americans would decide to have one more go at the settlers. “Indian summer,” the settlers called it.”
        Not very romantic, but plausible.

  8. Reminds me of the phrase “carpe diem” seizing the day, treasuring each moment, in this case, each season which brings its own characteristics and blessings. Wonderfully written and visually stimulating. Splendid Cynthia!

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