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在一个月朗星稀的夜晚，第一次霜降来临了。它如飞絮般悄无声息地拂过山坡上菜园的一角。破晓之际，从发亮的叶片、闪光的树干和柔软发黑的藤蔓上，人们仍旧看到它留下的痕迹。
此后的另一个夜晚，也许是两个夜晚，月光洒向大地，寒霜拂过山谷，返回北山以外的地方，将在那里作稍长时间的逗留。金色温暖的阳光爱抚着初秋的大地，空气中散发出淡淡的茴香味道和金菊花的香气。九月令人眩晕的阳光穿透了它湛蓝的天空。
九月的夜晚，空气清爽，热血动物变得非常活跃。然而，冷血动物的生物钟却越走越慢，因为对它们来说，失去阳光就意味着失去生气。禅、蟋蟀和纺织娘都不再呜叫，如果它们同时鼓噪起来，就好像小提琴演奏家用一根破损的弓，以慢悠悠的节奏划过残留下的几根旧弦。
储存食物的时间到了。几个星期以来，老鼠一直在忙着搬运果实，它们的收获颇丰。花栗鼠把自己冬眠的居所填满，松鼠把树上的坚果都摘了下来。土拨鼠为了在体内囤积厚厚的脂肪，吃下了大量的草叶、苜蓿和果子。 。 想看书来
甜美的九月（2）
金翼啄木鸟开始聚集起来，它们要准备迁徙了。整个夏天，这些大型飞禽坚持单独活动，它们也不结交伙伴，只是忙于家庭生活。现在，它们却在部落里走家串户，游戏玩耍，过着群居的生活。莺燕已经聚集起来准备迁徙，知更鸟不久也要碰头了。鸟巢已经修筑好了，并储存了大量的食物，幼鸟将要独立生活。九月是鸟类度假的月份。谁知道它们之前是如何把迁徙旅行商定下来的呢？
九月即将结束，秋天的宝库被装得满满的，几乎要溢出来了。在安静的午后，它们熠熠生辉，到了黄昏，它们又变得像燃烧的火焰一般。树林里、道路旁及庭院中，都好像镶嵌着珠宝，这是一个帝王连做梦都想不到的事情。
在阳光下，九月沿着自己的路途前进着，大自然准备迎接冬季的来临。林木的颜色已经褪去，落叶给大地铺上了一层地毯，整个大地披上了秋装，根茎和柔弱的种子汲取着赠予的营养。生命将自己放进了根茎、籽卵之中，它们停止了生长的渴望，等待下一年的来临。
金色的九月，没有冬季的干燥寒冷，没有春天的黄沙漫天，更没有夏日的酷暑难耐，有的是繁忙的身影和丰厚的收获。这是一个收获的季节，处处充满了生命的活力，它代表着繁盛、成熟和优雅。愿我们都能拥有人生的九月。
Sweet September
Hal Borland
September is more than a month； really； it is a season； an achievement in itself。 It begins with August’s leftovers and itends with October’s preparations； but along the way it achieves special satisfactions。 After summer’s heat and haste； the year consolidates itself。 Deliberate September—in its own time and tempo—begins to sum up another summer。
With September es a sense of autumn。 It creeps in ona misty dawn and vanishes in the hot afternoon。 It tiptoes through the treetops。 rouging a few leaves； then rides a tuft of thistledown across the valley and away。 It sits on a hill top and hoots like an October owl in the dusk。 It plays tag with the wind。 September is a changeling； busy as a squirrel in a hickory tree； idle as a languid brook。 It is summer’s ripen and richness fulfilled。
Some of the rarest days of the year e in the September season—days when it is fortably cool but pulsing with life； when the sky is clear and clean； the air crisp； the wind free of dust。 Meadows still smell of hay and the sweetness of cut grass。 September flowers are less varied than those of May but so abundant that they make September another flowery month。 Goldenrod es by mid…August； but rises to a peak of golden abundance inearly September。 Late thistles make spectacular purple accents。 And asters“blossom everywhere； along the rcadsides； in meadows； on the hilltops； even in city lots； ranging in color from pure whitethrough all degrees of lavender to the royal New England purpie。”
We think of spring as the miracle time； when opening bud and new leaf proclaim the persistence of life。 But September is when the abiding wonder makes itself known in a subtler way。 Now growth es to annual fruition； and preparations are pleted for another year； another generation。 The acorn “ripens and the hickory nut matures。 The plant mits its future to the seed and the root。 The insect stows tomorrow in the egg and the pupa。 The surge is almost over and lire begins to relax。
甜美的九月（3）
The green prime is passing。 The trees begin to proclaim the change。 Soon the leaves will be discarded； the grass will sere。 But the miracle of life persists； the mysterious germ of growth and renewal that is the seed itself。
This is gossamer season。 Dawn shimmers with spider filaments； proof that late hatches of spiderlings have the instinct to travel。 On such gossamer strands tiny spiders have traveled into the Arctic and almost to the summits of the Himalayas。 Soon milkweed pods will open with their silver floss。
This is the season of the harvest moon。 With reasonably clear skies it will be a moonlit week； for the harvest moon is nothasty； it es early and stays late。 There was a time when the busy farmer could return to the fields after supper and continue his harvest by moonlight。 There’s still harvesting to be done； but much of it now centers on the kitchen rather than the barns。 The last bountiful yield es from the garden； the late sweet corn； the tomatoes； the root vegetables。 The canning； the preserving； the freezing； the kitchen harvest in all its variety； reaches its peak。
First frost es in the night； a clear； scant…starred night when the moon is near its fullness。 It es without a whisper； quiet as thistle down； brushing the corner of a hillside garden。 Dawn es and you see its path—the glistening leaf； the gleaming stem； the limp； blackening garden vine。
Another night or two the frost walks the valleys in the moonlight。 Then it goes back beyond the northern hills to wait a little longer； and the golden mildness of early autumn forts the land。 A faint anise smell is on the air； goldenrod scent。 The mistswirls and September shines through； the deep…blue sky of September。
To warm…blooded creatures； the crisp； cool nights of September are invigorating。 But cold…blooded insects are at the mercy of the sun and now their clocks run down。 The cicada is stilled。 The chorus of the cricket and katydid diminishes。 When they rash at all it is with the deliberate tempo of a fiddler drawing a worn bow across fraying strings。
Now e the hoarding days。 Mice have been harvesting and stowing seeds for weeks。 The chipmunk lines his winter bedroom； and squirrel hide the nut trees； bounty。 The woodchucks； gorging on grass and clover and fruit； lay up their harvest inbody fat under their own skins。
The flickers begin to gather for migration。 All summer these big woodpeckers were resolutely individual； busy with family life and wanting no pany。 Now they are gregarious； with time for tribal gossip and munity play。 The warblers and swallow shave already formed in premigration flocks； soon the robins will be gathering too。 Nesting is pleted； fledglings are on their own； and there is food in plenty。 September is vacation time for birds。 Who knows but that they are discussing the trip ahead？
By September’s end the treasure chest of autumn begins to spill over with wealth。 You see it glowing in the quiet afternoon； aflame in the sunset。 Woodland； roadside and dooryard will soon be jeweled beyond a rajah’s richest dreams。
The year