It's all good

I was sitting at the keyboard yesterday morning, blogging, searching for work, answering email, catching up on news of friends and family (mostly friends), and I chanced to look out the library window. The shade is always up, and at certain times throughout the year the scene of dappled sun through the Chinese Maple is heart-stoppingly blissful.

In the spring, when the skies are a vibrant blue and the leaf buds are bursting from red to green; or, in the summer, when our rogue-ish resident squirrel perches on a visible branch and grooms (or scolds our porch chipmunks).

And then there's the fall.

That time of year so utterly conflicted on its own behalf, but where the leaves begin their final few weeks of existence totally dependent upon (and affected by) the weather for their further development or immediate demise.

It was then I noticed the leaves had begun their inexorable dance to the ground. The very slightest breeze was evident, and that was all that was needed for the loosest leaves to be nudged from the tree.

A few fell here and there, and it was so delicate...so subtle...you would hardly have noticed it at all, but it put me in mind of the gentlest snowfall. I found it mesmerizing.

Later, while driving north along I-75, I suddenly started to think of the passage of the last few weeks (the whole month of September, really), and realized that October meant a huge change in the seasons and the foliage, and it means the end of our green period in Michigan. What prompted this realization were those few stands of trees set back in fields, the ones where the recent cold temps had had an effect on the colors of the leaves.

By November, the trees will be bare and the grass will be well on the way to muddy brown, the skies will become steely in tone for a great deal of the time, and moods will become somber and muted (until Christmas shopping and holiday decorating becomes all the rage). However, there is always that part of autumn that comes to visit us with incomparable beauty - in between the last vestiges of summer and the onset of winter.

Those brilliant weeks of jewel-tone trees. Copper-colored leafy ceilings. Trees decked out in vibrant yellows and shades of crimson and plums. Unrivaled oranges and velvety browns. A mixture so rich and unbelievably beautiful, you can't stop looking at it.

Sometimes the sun hits a spot with such intensity the whole landscape can make your jaw drop and take your mind off of anything complicated or messy. Let yourself go when you find a moment like that. Accept the momentary gift from God, soak it in and file it away. It's all good!