Here's more proof—a couple of autumn-hued beauties on the banks of the Santa Fe River.
Season of melancholy! Eye's enchanter!
How pleasing to me are your farewell hues—
How I love the pomp of fading Nature,
The trees arrayed in gold-vermilion dress,
The fresh wind blowing through their tops and
The dense and darkly undulating skies,
The sun's infrequent ray, the early frost,
And grizzled Winter's lightly murmured threats.
-Alexander Pushkin, from Autumn (A Fragment)