We are past our peak in foliage, but a good amount still remains and makes the countryside beautiful. The next storm should knock most of it out. That’s a storm I do not look forward to, but I know it must come. When it does, the house will shake from the ferocity, and in the morning, all the colors will be gone. The ground will be littered with them. Then they will quickly turn to brown and then gray. And we will forget again.
|Bring me October, the end.|
It’s strange to think that the yellow and orange in the leaves is always there but cannot be seen because of the green of the chlorophyll. Every ride taken in the countryside in the summer contains these beautiful orange and yellow leaves, but they cannot be seen because of the overpowering green. Every glance at the countryside contains brilliant splashes of phenomenal color, but we cannot see it because of the green. We see only the color of lush growth and bounty, the color green. Yet secretly hidden within that bounty are the dramatic colors of demise.
But how I yearn for the fall each year! I can scarcely wait for my beloved October to come along and bring me the demise. I can scarcely wait for the beautiful end. My eyes are relieved, finally, from the monotony of green. (I conveniently forget how much I longed for the green in the early spring.) Enough growth, enough lushness, enough bounty. Enough, I say!
Bring me the sorrow of October. Bring me the colors of demise. Let me wallow in the destruction of everything. Bring me the brown, and then bring me the gray. Then cover me with a white blanket and let me sleep.