"At last it was the time of late summer, when the house was cool and damp in the morning, and all the light seemed to come through green leaves; but at the first step out of doors the sunshine always laid a warm hand on my shoulder, and the clear, high sky seemed to lift quickly as I looked at it. There was no autumnal mist nor any August fog; instead of these, the sky and the hills, with every bush of bay and every fir-top, gained a deeper color and a sharper clearness. There was something shining in the air, and a kind of lustre on the pasture grass – a northern look that, except at this moment of the year, one must go far to seek. The sunshine of a northern summer was coming to its lovely end."
Sarah Orne Jewett, The Country of the Pointed Firs ~ 1896
