Sunday, October 23, 2011

Hello, Fall

Hello, Fall, 

     I know you think I favor the other seasons over you and you have good reason to believe that.  When I was a way little kid, I liked the fall because it meant Halloween and that was one of those wild and mysterious kinds of days.  But I outgrew Halloween and, in fact, grew tired of Halloween by the time I was 13.  Didn't like the costumes, didn't go for the candy, and didn't like the spookiness.  There was no reason to like you.  Sorry, but it is the truth.

      Through my twenties, your appearance  just meant school starting and the days getting shorter.  This wasn't a big deal because I was fairly oblivious to things like the light and the shortened days back then.  I was too wrapped up in college life and post college life and boyfriends and dealing with all that garbage.  When Alex and Meg were little kids I could get into the Halloween thing with and for them but, again, that didn't last.  Then my father died in mid October and that kinda squelched October all together. Now he's the first thing I think about when October comes around.  And you and October are synonymous in my book.

      When you come to town, the air always feels electrified and not in a good way.  Too often you cause electrical tension and shocking stuff.  I don't like it when you do that.  The late afternoon sun shines at a slant and the brightness can be blinding.  It makes me squint and feel tense and irritated (especially if I have to drive at that time).
Sadly, you scare away the summer light and the the days grow as tired as I am and they shut down earlier and earlier.
    But over the last five to eight years, I have come to appreciate your brilliant color.  I must say that I never gave you sufficient appreciation for the beauty that is you.  I know that when I ride my bike these days, I can completely freeze in order to hold an image in my head.  I can stop that bike and just stare at the blend of brilliant colors in front of me.  I watch the trees at school every day and loudly and daily proclaim your beauty to anyone who can hear.  I see you.  I see your brilliance.  I know now that I was not alive enough before to catch that.  I am alive now.

    I do hope you will forgive me for not seeing you earlier but that's what time can do to a person.  As I let other things resolve, as I stop caring so much about the things that don't really matter, I can open my eyes to the light and the beauty around me.  Not just in the trees and the sky that you wear but, if I am really alive and unencumbered, I can see your beauty in the faces of the kids at Halloween or the couples walking in the park.  I can see your beauty in friends and feel your beauty in the warmth that comes with your late year sunshine.
      Will you forgive me for taking so long to see you?  I know how I feel when I believe I am invisible to someone.  You are not invisible to me anymore.  Here's to sweet fall days, luscious in color and holding the promise of change and anticipation.

      When you leave town, I will sigh at your departure.  But, when you come back next year, perhaps I will have learned to embrace the darkness that is your traveling companion.  Surprises do happen, you know.



  1. I especially enjoy seeing the pictures which mirror back the images you write about. Some day I am going to have to learn to post photos. Not only do your words bring fall alive, but the pictures add punctuation. That second one could have come right out of "The Giver." If I were going to try abstract painting, I might want to aim for something like that. The three dimensional approach is intriguing.

  2. Glad to see you are learning to like fall. I have learned to appreciate it's beauty since I have been here in Shingletown. The colors in October and especially November can be dazzling. You should come for a visit!