September just might be one of my favorite months for senior portraits in Connecticut. There is a new crispness in the clear air and a delightful sensation that the cozy autumn days are on their way. My sessions now require a little bit earlier scheduling in the afternoon, because of the sun setting at seven o'clock. It's for some curious reason always startling to remember once again, that those late night summer sunsets are behind us. 

I think it's unfortunate indeed that September is such a busy month for families with children and teens, with rushed mornings off to school and the configuring of new fuller schedules. When, in terms of the nature's way of living out September, it's actually a very still and peaceful month. The veggies and flowers that were so busy growing to their heights in July and August, now just sit there, still glorious, waiting to be harvested. The skies seem so serene and blue in September. I feel the September fields call to me saying, "you'll miss me come winter! Just spend a day wandering about in the glorious sunshine with me! I promise you will not regret it." Luckily for me, I get to spend my working hours doing just that. Strolling about in beautiful nature with a senior who gets to fully be present in the moment. While holding her hopes and dreams for the future in her mind, I take portraits of her feeling pride and hope at the same time. 

It's a fantastic start to senior year if you ask me! If you do happen to be out in a field in Connecticut on a beautiful September day, try reading poetry. Feel free to copy down the following poems because there is something just unsuited about staring at a phone while in nature, isn't there? A book or journal entry seems much more matched to the peaceful moment. Wishing you all serene September days!


by Carlos Wilcox

The sultry summer past, September comes,
Soft twilight of the slow-declining year.
All mildness, soothing loneliness, and peace;
The fading season ere the falling come,
More sober than the buxom blooming May,
And therefore less the favourite of the world,
But dearest month of all to pensive minds.

'Tis now far spent; and the meridian sun,
Most sweetly smiling with attempered beams,
Sheds gently down a mild and grateful warmth.
Beneath its yellow lustre groves and woods,
Checker'd by one night's frost with various hues,
While yet no wind has swept a leaf away,
Shine doubly rich. It were a sad delight
Down the smooth stream to glide, and see it tinged
Upon each brink with all the gorgeous hues,
The yellow, red, or purple of the trees
That singly, or in tufts, or forests thick
Adorn the shores; to see, perhaps, the side
Of some high mount reflected far below
With its bright colours, intermix'd with spots
Of darker green. Yes, it were sweetly sad
To wander in the open fields, and hear,
E'en at this hour, the noonday hardly past,
The lulling insects of the summer's night;
To hear, where lately buzzing swarms were heard,
A lonely bee long roving here and there
To find a single flower, but all in vain;
Then rising quick and with a louder hum,
In widening circles round and round his head,
Straight by the listener flying clear away,
As if to bid the fields a last adieu;
To hear within the woodland's sunny side,
Late fall of music, nothing save perhaps
The sound of nutshells by the squirrel dropp'd
From some tall beech fast falling through the leaves.

A Green Cornfield

by Christina Rossetti

     "And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest."

The earth was green, the sky was blue:
I saw and heard one sunny morn
A skylark hang between the two,
A singing speck above the corn;

A stage below, in gay accord,
White butterflies danced on the wing,
And still the singing skylark soared
And silent sank, and soared to sing.

The cornfield stretched a tender green
To right and left beside my walks;
I knew he had a nest unseen
Somewhere among the million stalks:

And as I paused to hear his song
While swift the sunny moments slid,
Perhaps his mate sat listening long,
And listened longer than I did.



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