It’s been fall for two days and I can already feel
the crisp in the air. It makes the hair on my arms
stand up. I breathe in deep breaths to take as much
as this magic in as I can. This is my favorite time of
year because it’s gone in a blink of an eye. It’s delicate,
for this beauty comes from the change of leaving the
earth. Orange leaves stay on the grass until they
get raked up on the weekend.
Walking through the woods, I admire the changing leaves
on the aspen trees. It looks like fall but feels like summer.
I take off my sweater and look at the view that’s similar to
the moon. Wide open space with very little human life
equates to the feeling of being on another planet. The leaves
look like their on fire as the orange color burns the naked
eye. When I reach the top, I look out to see hills and mountains
filled with fire leaves. The hills are alive with the sound of
music plays in my head while I catch my breath.
(This photo was taken at 6:30pm, 70° F.)
I’m sitting on my back deck, something I rarely do voluntarily these days, catching up on a few New Yorker magazines I’ve been ignoring for too long. It’s early evening, almost 6:00 pm and the warm breeze is blowing. I can feel the end of summer nearing as I look up to the changing leaves in my yard. One dog is lounging near me on the deck while the other is by the fence, munching on grass. The deck is in the shade facing east. A diet coke is on the glass table, my second of the day because of a lingering migraine. A dragonfly stops on the wood beneath my feet before continuing on his way. The dog by me comes up and licks my chin. My favorite time of year is approaching faster than I realize. The only thing missing is the crisp in the air.