Almabtrieb – Auction

Description

Now it’s that time again, the cows come from the lush mountain pastures back to the valley and I am overcome as every year a certain melancholy, the autumn blues.

The summer was over again much too quickly with its balmy evenings and

the beautiful lightness.

So at the end of each summer I think of the poem by K. Tucholsky.

“One morning it smells of autumn.

It is not yet cold; it is not yet windy;

Nothing has really changed at all

and yet everything”