Yesterday as I went abroad for supplies to round out my little family party, I was struck by the way the height of Autumn had visited so suddenly. It had been announcing itself for weeks, as my photos have tried to capture, but as rain moved in and I traveled to the more protected spaces of the city my eyes were almost assaulted by the orange, gold, and scarlets of the trees and bushes.
I hurried by in the confines of the car, but wanted so much to drink up and be drunk with the color of the moment. I find my weakness is gluttony of beauty, especially the ephemeral seasonal beauty. Greedy for each view, wanting to hoard it in my mind, as if it were not the manna that it is … not something to be kept beyond the experience of the particular day.
Perhaps the leaves were all the brighter for the gray skies and dreary drizzle which misted down. The leaves are fast falling now from the trees, and I expect we will soon be greeted by November’s aspect which seems to be prematurely advancing this year.
As fine as photography is, even the most professional cannot fully capture the experience of a Midwestern, not to mention New England, fall color display. There is a certain reverberation which the October atmosphere fairly shimmers with, that is picked up by the sense and not captured in film. Maybe it is the additional layers of autumn scent, I can’t say what goes into this intoxicating brew, but I know this is the reason so many of us love autumns.
On a side note: I couldn’t help but pick up some last minute mums that were on sale- more for the blooms in the next year, than for any hope of this year’s garden. Nothing accentuates the burst of tree colors like the chrysanthemum; but nothing rivals them, and the mums can only play second fiddle no matter how hard they vie for attention. The trees are fully regal queens and divas in this season, while merely background or supporting players in other times of year.
I love trees. And Autumn is their finest hour.