November 24, 2008
New York City
It’s too late to have the green, yellow, orange, red, purple, and the brown of the fall season. The last mottled leaf has been shed by the trees as autumn fades to give way to the coming winter. The cold is now a notch lower than last week’s temperature dip. Only some fallen leaves roll down the sidewalk; a few decay with the debris on the ground’s icy permafrost close to the street curve.
I feel I didn’t have enough of the dazzling color changes of fall this year. The trees are suddenly bare in hibernation, concluding the foliage’s annual shedding. I don’t hear the whisper of the summer leaves anymore— only the twigs and branches of maple trees shudder with the breeze.
Warding off the bite of the chilly air, the little chestnut sparrows may silently huddle under the bush somewhere. Trees stand still like the rigid black fence of a leaf-laden path in Central Park. There is the scent of moist earth after a light drizzle. Soft sunshine peers through the woods and touch the sere leaves on the pavement. The morning dove which wakes me up at dawn is gone.
Have you tried painting a picture of the awesome fall season the way you see it etched in your mind? Even if I don’t know how, let me show you the colors. Look at the loud amorphous picture I have below. It shows that gifted artists, unlike me, can paint autumn much better. And nature, if left alone, makes the season infinitely grand, and pleasing to remember.(Photo Credits: FernandoSanchez(OnandOf); Lawatha) =0=