The First Days of Autumn — Calm English Listening

Transcript

Introduction

A: Hello, and welcome.

A: This is slow, calm B1 English for a quiet evening.

A: Tonight you’ll hear two gentle stories about the first days of autumn.

A: Between them, we’ll review ten phrases. Then there will be some quiet practice and a slower final pass.

A: Listen for six of them: a chill in the air, the leaves are turning, and to put on a sweater.

A: The smell of wet leaves, to take the long way home, and it gets dark earlier.

A: If you miss a word, let it go. Another one will come.

A: You can practice the phrases in Recursio another day. The link is in the description.

A: For now, just listen.

The first cold morning

A: It is the first week of September, in a small town where the summer was long.

A: Nadia wakes up at six, the way she does all year.

A: The room is dark. Two weeks ago, at six, it was already light.

A: She lies still and listens.

A: There is no sound from the street. One car, far away, and then nothing.

A: She puts her feet on the floor, and the floor is cold.

A: That is the first thing she notices. The floor is cold.

A: In the kitchen she opens the window, the way she has opened it every morning since May.

A: And then she closes it again, quickly.

A: There is a chill in the air.

A: Not cold, not yet. But the soft, warm air of August is gone, and the air feels sharper now.

A: She stands with her hand on the window for a moment.

A: Summer ended in the night, and nobody told her.

A: She makes tea and holds the cup with both hands.

A: This is new. In July she made tea and forgot it on the table.

A: Now she holds the cup, because the cup is warm.

A: At the door she looks at her jacket and leaves it on the hook.

A: It is too warm for a jacket. She knows the day will be warm by noon.

A: So she goes back to the bedroom and opens the low drawer, the one she has not opened since April.

A: Inside there is a gray sweater, folded, and it smells a little of the drawer.

A: She puts on the sweater. It fits the same as last year.

A: This small thing makes her happy, and she is not sure why.

A: Outside, the street looks the same and is not the same.

A: The light is lower. It comes from the side now, not from above.

A: It touches the tops of the walls, and the road stays in shadow.

A: The trees along the road are still green. Most of them.

A: But at the top of the tall tree on the corner, the leaves are turning.

A: Yellow at the edges. Two or three of them almost orange.

A: She looks up at it and stands there longer than she means to.

A: It rained in the night. She did not hear it, but she can see it.

A: The road is dark, and the fallen leaves are stuck flat to the road.

A: And there is the smell of wet leaves. Heavy and sweet, a little like earth.

A: It is the smell that means September, more than any calendar.

A: At the bakery, the woman behind the counter is wearing a thick sweater.

A: “It came all at once this year,” she says. Nadia agrees. “All at once.”

A: They have this same conversation every September. It is small and comfortable and takes ten seconds.

A: The market square is quieter than it was in August.

A: The tables outside the cafe are still there, but only two of them have people.

A: The visitors have gone home. The town belongs to the town again.

A: At the fruit stand there are apples now, in three colors, where the peaches used to be.

A: She buys six of them, and her bag is suddenly heavy in a way she likes.

A: This is the end of summer.

A: Not a sad thing, exactly. A clear thing.

A: The long bright evenings are finished, and something quieter is starting.

A: At work, the office is cold.

A: In August they set the air conditioning low, and nobody has changed it since.

A: By eleven, three people are sitting at their desks with their jackets on, and everyone laughs about it.

A: Someone finds the switch. By three in the afternoon the office is warm, and then a little too warm.

A: That is also the first days of autumn. Nothing is set correctly yet.

A: She eats her lunch on the bench outside, in her sweater, in the sun.

A: The sun is still strong in the middle of the day. It is easy to forget that about September.

A: Cold mornings, warm afternoons, early evenings.

A: One day holds three different seasons, and you dress for all three of them.

A: At seven she leaves the office, and the light outside surprises her.

A: It is gold and low, and it will not last long.

A: It gets dark earlier now. She knows the street lamps will come on before long.

A: Her apartment is fifteen minutes away, straight down the main road.

A: She does not go straight down the main road.

A: She takes the long way home, along the river, because of the light.

A: The last time she took the long way home was in June.

A: Then the evenings were long, and the light was easy to find.

A: Tonight it matters. Tonight the light is something you can lose.

A: The path by the river is empty. The water is gray and moving fast after the rain.

A: A man is fishing, and he does not look up.

A: Two swans go past.

A: Behind them, the reflection of a yellow treetop moves across the water and breaks into pieces.

A: She walks slowly. She is not tired, and she is not in a hurry.

A: She only wants the walk to take longer than it needs to take.

A: At home, there is a blanket on the sofa, still folded where she left it in spring.

A: She begins to look forward to something simple: a quiet evening under that blanket.

A: It is easier to notice the change when she walks slowly.

A: The morning, the apples, the low light, the empty path. Together, they tell her that autumn has begun.

Phrase review

A: Now, slowly, the ten phrases.

A: One small note first. Autumn and fall are the same season. Fall is the more common word in American English.

A: A chill in the air. A little coldness you can feel in the air, often early in the morning or at the start of autumn.

A: “Close the window. There’s a chill in the air this morning.”

A: The leaves are turning. The leaves on the trees are changing color, from green to yellow, orange, or red.

A: “Look at the park. The leaves are turning already.”

A: To put on a sweater. To start wearing a sweater. Put on is the action; after that, you are wearing it.

A: “It’s cool in here. I’ll put on a sweater.”

A: The smell of wet leaves. The heavy smell of fallen leaves after rain, a little like wet earth.

A: “I love the smell of wet leaves in the morning.”

A: The end of summer. The last days of the warm season, when it is clearly finishing.

A: “The market is quiet. It’s the end of summer.”

A: To take the long way home. To choose a longer route home on purpose, perhaps because you want to keep walking.

A: “It was such a nice evening that I took the long way home.”

A: It gets dark earlier. The evenings become dark sooner than before, as the season changes.

A: “It gets dark earlier now. I leave the office and the lamps are on.”

A: A blanket on the sofa. A soft cover you keep on the sofa and pull over yourself when you sit down.

A: “There’s a blanket on the sofa if you’re cold.”

A: To look forward to something. To feel happy about something that is coming.

A: In this phrase, after “to” we use a noun, or a verb with -ing: looking forward to the evenings, or looking forward to reading.

A: “I’m looking forward to the quiet evenings at home.”

A: To notice the change. To see or realize that something is different now.

A: “I didn’t notice the change until this week.”

The first quiet evening

A: One week later, in a city two hours away, Daniel closes the small library where he works.

A: It is Saturday evening, a little after half past seven.

A: The last visitor left fifteen minutes ago, carrying two books under one arm.

A: All summer, people stayed until closing and talked outside the doors.

A: Tonight the steps are empty before Daniel turns the key.

A: He stands under the library sign and looks at the sky between the buildings.

A: The blue is fading. The shop windows across the street look bright already.

A: It gets dark earlier now.

A: Daniel does not feel late, but the city looks as if the day is almost finished.

A: He begins the walk home through streets that are still warm from the afternoon.

A: Bicycles pass him. A bus opens its doors and closes them again.

A: At the corner store, he buys bread, mushrooms, and two red apples.

A: He carries the paper bag against his chest and turns into his street.

A: The air smells faintly of rain, though the pavement is still dry.

A: Three floors up, his apartment is quiet.

A: He turns on the small lamp beside the window, not the bright ceiling light.

A: The lamp makes one warm circle in the room.

A: Outside that circle, the shelves and chairs slowly disappear into shadow.

A: In the kitchen, he cooks the mushrooms and cuts two thick pieces of bread.

A: The pan makes a soft sound. The open window lets in cool air.

A: He closes the window before he sits down to eat.

A: His sister sends a message while he is finishing dinner.

A: Her message is short: “Tea tomorrow afternoon?”

A: Daniel writes back: “Yes. Four o’clock.”

A: He is looking forward to it. They have not had a quiet afternoon together since June.

A: After dinner, he opens the closet in the hall.

A: A folded brown blanket is waiting on the top shelf.

A: He put it there in May, when the apartment first became too warm for it.

A: He carries it into the living room and places it across the back of the sofa.

A: A blanket on the sofa changes the whole room.

A: The room looks ready for a season that has only just begun.

A: Daniel sits down and pulls one end of the blanket over his knees.

A: He opens a book he bought in March.

A: He read three pages then and left it beside his bed.

A: Tonight he starts again from the beginning.

A: Outside, someone laughs on the sidewalk. A bus passes at the end of the street.

A: The city is not silent. It is only slower than it was a month ago.

A: At nine, Daniel looks up from the book.

A: Nearly every window across the street has a lamp behind it.

A: He begins to notice the change in small things.

A: The lamp before dinner. The closed window. The hot bread. The blanket.

A: None of them is important alone. Together, they make the evening feel new.

A: Daniel is not sorry that summer is ending.

A: He is looking forward to quiet Sundays, long books, and tea with his sister.

A: Not because he dislikes the bright months.

A: He is simply ready for the quieter ones.

A: At ten, he marks his place and closes the book.

A: The brown blanket stays on the sofa when he goes to bed.

A: Tomorrow afternoon, his sister will sit under the other half.

Quiet repetition

A: Now a few quiet questions. Try them in your mind, or just listen if you feel sleepy.

A: What do we call the slight coldness you feel in the morning, before the real cold comes?

A: A chill in the air.

A: The trees are going from green to yellow and orange. What is happening?

A: The leaves are turning.

A: Nadia opened the low drawer and found something gray and warm. What did she do next?

A: She put on a sweater.

A: What do we call the heavy, earthy smell of fallen leaves after rain in September?

A: The smell of wet leaves.

A: Her apartment was fifteen minutes away, and she walked along the river instead. What did she do?

A: She took the long way home.

A: The quiet market, the last warm afternoons, and the apples in place of peaches all show what?

A: The end of summer.

A: In July, at a quarter to eight, the sun was still up. In September the lamps are on. How do we say this?

A: It gets dark earlier.

A: What does Daniel leave on the sofa when he goes to bed?

A: A blanket on the sofa.

A: Daniel feels happy when he thinks about quiet Sundays ahead. What does he do?

A: He looks forward to them.

A: Something has become different, and you finally become aware of it. What do you do?

A: You notice the change.

Autumn, more slowly

A: Now a few autumn moments again, more slowly. Nothing to remember this time. Just listen.

A: You wake up before the light, in a dark room, in the first week of September.

A: You put your feet on the cold floor.

A: You open the kitchen window, and you close it again.

A: There is a chill in the air.

A: You hold your cup with both hands, because the cup is warm.

A: You leave your jacket on the hook, and you open the low drawer instead.

A: You put on a sweater, and it fits the same as last year.

A: Outside, the light comes from the side now, low along the walls.

A: At the top of the tall tree on the corner, the leaves are turning.

A: The road is dark from the rain in the night.

A: You walk through the smell of wet leaves.

A: In the square there are apples where the peaches used to be.

A: This is the end of summer.

A: At seven, the light is gold and low and it will not last.

A: So you take the long way home, along the river.

A: The water is moving fast. A man is fishing and does not look up.

A: You walk slowly, because you want the walk to take longer.

A: When you reach your door, the lamps are on.

A: It gets dark earlier now.

A: Inside, you turn on the small lamp, and the room becomes softer.

A: You make a simple dinner, and the kitchen becomes warm.

A: The blanket is waiting on the sofa.

A: You pull it over your knees, and the evening asks nothing of you.

A: You are looking forward to the quiet months ahead.

A: At the end of the day, you notice the change.

A: Autumn did not arrive all at once. It arrived through small changes, and you noticed them later.

Final phrases and goodnight

A: The ten phrases, one last time.

A: A chill in the air.

A: The leaves are turning.

A: To put on a sweater.

A: The smell of wet leaves.

A: The end of summer.

A: To take the long way home.

A: It gets dark earlier.

A: A blanket on the sofa.

A: To look forward to something.

A: To notice the change.

A: That’s all for tonight. Thank you for listening.

A: If you’d like to practice these phrases later, the link is below.

A: Sleep well, or have a good evening, wherever you are.