I surprised myself this morning. I traded in all my intentions for a little last minute spontaneity.
I thought I was driving east in search of the sunrise, but what I found instead was fall’s final serenade.
Each leaf lingers – the last onstage – playing one last note of color.
Some few greens still mingle with the fading glory of reds, browning golds, bright, brave yellows, and a remaining whisper of orange.
And I didn’t want to miss a single one.
Sitting on the damp morning grass, I knew fall was feeling the last of its warmth. Nature, too, gathers its strength for the winter we all know is coming – whether we’re ready or not.
So I chased this morning’s light past the sights I see every single day, pushing the foreshadowing of winter away by the length of my camera lens, determined to savor these last few moments alone with autumn.
I kicked leaves like a kid. And didn’t care who watched.
Me and my camera, just hanging out with fall in the cemetery, on the common, and crouched down low in some pricker bushes. I’m sure fall understood the secrets I shared. Light of any kind offers encouragement – but early morning light feels especially hopeful.
Today is yesterday’s second chance.
I spent the final few minutes of fall watching one leaf after another tickled by today’s earliest light. Bittersweet, berries, and the bare bones of trees kept me company, somehow understanding my need to focus and refocus.
Light leaves us minute by minute each day after the next, so I’ll need these final moments of fall to carry me across a long, dark, and frozen white path to spring.
This morning’s spontaneity was like a surprise party and fall was in charge of the decorating. I’m so glad I accepted the invitation.