The color of time
It's autumn, and the world around me is rusting.
I never manage to notice exactly when the fall color-changes start. I drive along the same path to work every day, and I watch out my windows for the signs, but it always winds up surprising me one morning - I know I drove home the night before in a shadowy green haze, but today the trees have changed into a riot of red and gold and brown, as if someone released a gang of kindergarteners armed with Crayola markers into the wilderness while I slept.
The grass is slowly drifting from green to metallic brown. The trees are still full and fluffy, looking almost more alive than they did at the height of summer heat, but bits of early-falling leaves coat the sidewalk with jewel-tones. Even the sky is faintly gold-tinged, after three straight days of rain. And the chill in the air makes me feel like the world is telling me to wake up, even as the life around me prepares to go into hibernation.
It's autumn. Time to pick apples, and drink tea, and unpack my sweaters. Time to enjoy cold breezes, and the way they make my skin tingle, and to be aware of the warm blood in my veins. Time to watch the colors of the earth shift into another portion of the spectrum, and delight in them while I can before everything becomes grey and white and wintry. I used to think winter was my favorite time of the year, but right now, while it's here, I wonder how I could ever think I loved anything more than autumn.
I never manage to notice exactly when the fall color-changes start. I drive along the same path to work every day, and I watch out my windows for the signs, but it always winds up surprising me one morning - I know I drove home the night before in a shadowy green haze, but today the trees have changed into a riot of red and gold and brown, as if someone released a gang of kindergarteners armed with Crayola markers into the wilderness while I slept.
The grass is slowly drifting from green to metallic brown. The trees are still full and fluffy, looking almost more alive than they did at the height of summer heat, but bits of early-falling leaves coat the sidewalk with jewel-tones. Even the sky is faintly gold-tinged, after three straight days of rain. And the chill in the air makes me feel like the world is telling me to wake up, even as the life around me prepares to go into hibernation.
It's autumn. Time to pick apples, and drink tea, and unpack my sweaters. Time to enjoy cold breezes, and the way they make my skin tingle, and to be aware of the warm blood in my veins. Time to watch the colors of the earth shift into another portion of the spectrum, and delight in them while I can before everything becomes grey and white and wintry. I used to think winter was my favorite time of the year, but right now, while it's here, I wonder how I could ever think I loved anything more than autumn.