For anyone who lives in the oak-and-maple area of New England there is a perennial temptation to plunge into a purple sea of adjectives about October. – Hal Borland, c.1961

October is the month for painted leaves…. As fruits and leaves and the day itself acquire a bright tint just before they fall, so the year near its setting. October is its sunset sky; November the later twilight. – Henry David Thoreau, “Autumnal Tints”

The clear light that belongs to October was making the landscape radiant. – Florence Bone (1875–1971), The Morning of To‑Day, 1907

But in October what a feast to the eye our woods and groves present! The whole body of the air seems enriched by their calm, slow radiance. They are giving back the light they have been absorbing from the sun all summer. – John Burroughs (1837–1921), “The Falling Leaves,” Under the Maples