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The Fall of the Year
THE clock of the year strikes one!—not in the dark silent night of winter, but in the hot light of midsummer.
It is a burning July day,—one o’clock in the afternoon of the year,—and all is still around the fields and woods. All is still. All is hushed. But yet, as I listen, I hear things in the dried grass, and in the leaves overhead, going “creepy-creep,” as you have heard the little mouse in the silent night.
I am lying on a bed of grass in the shade of a great oak tree, as the clock of the year strikes one. I am all alone in the quiet of the hot, hushed day. Alone? Are you alone in the big upstairs at midnight, when you hear the little mouse going “creepy-creep” from room to room? No; and I am not alone.
High overhead the clouds are drifting past; and between them, far away, is the blue of the sky—and how blue, how cool, how far, far away! But how near and warm seems the earth!
I lie outstretched upon it, feeling the burnt crisp grass beneath me, a beetle creeping under my shoulder, the heat of a big stone against my side. I throw out my hands, push my fingers into the hot soil, and try to take hold of the big earth as if I were a child clinging to my mother.
And so I am. But I am not frightened, as I used to be, when the little mouse went “creepy-creep,” and my real mother brought a candle to scare the mouse away. It is because I am growing old? But I cannot grow old to my mother. And the earth is my mother, my second mother. The beetle moving under my shoulder is one of my brothers; the hot stone by my side is another of my brothers; the big oak tree over me is another of my brothers; and so are the clouds, the white clouds drifting, drifting, drifting, so far away yonder, through the blue, blue sky.
The clock of the year strikes one. The summer sun is overhead. The flood-tide of summer life has come. It is the noon hour of the year.
It is a burning July day,—one o’clock in the afternoon of the year,—and all is still around the fields and woods. All is still. All is hushed. But yet, as I listen, I hear things in the dried grass, and in the leaves overhead, going “creepy-creep,” as you have heard the little mouse in the silent night.
I am lying on a bed of grass in the shade of a great oak tree, as the clock of the year strikes one. I am all alone in the quiet of the hot, hushed day. Alone? Are you alone in the big upstairs at midnight, when you hear the little mouse going “creepy-creep” from room to room? No; and I am not alone.
High overhead the clouds are drifting past; and between them, far away, is the blue of the sky—and how blue, how cool, how far, far away! But how near and warm seems the earth!
I lie outstretched upon it, feeling the burnt crisp grass beneath me, a beetle creeping under my shoulder, the heat of a big stone against my side. I throw out my hands, push my fingers into the hot soil, and try to take hold of the big earth as if I were a child clinging to my mother.
And so I am. But I am not frightened, as I used to be, when the little mouse went “creepy-creep,” and my real mother brought a candle to scare the mouse away. It is because I am growing old? But I cannot grow old to my mother. And the earth is my mother, my second mother. The beetle moving under my shoulder is one of my brothers; the hot stone by my side is another of my brothers; the big oak tree over me is another of my brothers; and so are the clouds, the white clouds drifting, drifting, drifting, so far away yonder, through the blue, blue sky.
The clock of the year strikes one. The summer sun is overhead. The flood-tide of summer life has come. It is the noon hour of the year.
110 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2013
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
March 2, 2022
We all really enjoyed this book. Sharp has a beautiful writing style and inspiring way of reflecting on nature that makes you want to be outside enjoying it every second!
November 13, 2025
I enjoyed reading this with my four year old. I look forward to reading it again when he is six. I will likely read it out loud every odd year during the Fall until my youngest is 6.
November 21, 2019
Beautiful, descriptive writing makes this am excellent book of nature lore. The author exhorts the reader to get out into the woods and fields to observe the changes in nature for himself, and use the senses to notice things only to be learned through patience and attention.
Note: There is occasionally a slight evolutionary tone, referencing cavemen ancestors and such.
Note: There is occasionally a slight evolutionary tone, referencing cavemen ancestors and such.
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November 16, 2025This volume was particularly lovely and evocative of what makes autumn so memorable. The eagle nest! The tromp through the woods for leaves! The goose honking! I'm glad I have only a year to wait before cycling back through these with my girl.
December 17, 2025
Such a delightful book, with very beautiful and inspiring writing. I feel like I know this author so well because his personality is so infused into his observations. I'm excited to dive into the other seasons with Sharp.
June 27, 2021
Perfect! Can’t wait to use for nature study inspiration this fall.
September 28, 2024
I enjoyed reading this nature lore book for pre reading to discuss with my daughter.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews