After a really dry summer I was worried a lot about what kind of fall would show up this year. I know that the brilliant colors I so adore require a proper combination of heat, water and light to do their magic and turn themselves preposterous colors before going dry and crackling their way to the ground to be crunched underfoot. I suppose that in these past few years the symbolism of these fantastic blazes just before the barren time is not lost on me, here in my own fall of life. Going out with such a dazzling display is something I think about more often these days. My dad used to say that if you made it to seventy, you could cruise along for awhile. He didn’t get there. Neither did Michael. My brother was my age when he died. My older sister was just a few years older than me when she died earlier this year. All these absences enhance what I was always like anyway – a person who wants to see everything I can see, do everything I can do, miss as little as possible. You’d think that after all the years, seeing a bright red tree would lose its thrilling effects. Not for me. I’m still excited to see all the shades of orange, yellow and red, no matter if the sky is bluer than blue or if it’s rainy and gray. I’m out there, walking or driving, headed to my personal favorite spots where certain trees are mine, whether they, or anyone else for that matter, understands my proprietary rights. I go out every day. I ooh, ah and gesticulate if there’s someone with me, eager to share my experience even if they’re not as enamored as I am about every single leaf. I can’t count how many photos I’ve taken in the past few weeks.
Recently I’ve been re-working my blogs about Michael’s cancer, trying to decide if I’m going to enhance the story and opt for writing a book that might help others. Plowing through all that pain is a tough slog. So, today, I’m just going to publish all these pictures I’ve been taking recently. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.