I sat out in my backyard and watched yellow leaves fall slowly and gracefully down from the trees. It was like a sparse snowfall where you can see each snowflake as it sways in the breeze on the way down from the sky.
I looked up and watched leaves falling right on top of me. It was like a close-up in a nature documentary.
I thought: “What a perfect name for a season, ‘Fall’.” It captures the essence of the process of one season melding into another. Things fall from the trees onto the ground. It’s an ending to a season characterized by rich, green foliage. It creates the image of bare trees and a brownish covering to the ground where the fallen leaves pile up. The bareness will last till the leaves ‘spring’ from the tree branches again the following April or May.
My birthday is at the end of October, so I’ve always been partial to this time of year. I get to anticipate a birthday as well as the color changes in the trees. As I get older, I appreciate the season even more. There’s something reassuring about the inevitability of leaves turning beautiful colors and then going out in a blaze of glory. Especially when you know they will return, green and fresh, six months later. The cycle of life.
This is the time of year when everyone who lives in year round warmth is actually jealous of us season junkies. We get the joy of color and the excitement of change. And we get it twice a year: When the bare grey of the trees turn green in the spring and again when the green turns to yellow, orange and red in the fall. There’s always something to look forward to.
I wouldn’t trade my seasonal existence for the world.