23 September 2020
Two days of temperatures in the lower 30s tripped the chemical switch within the leaves of the trees here to tell them to put on their fall coats. The fall’s glorious colors of orange reds and yellows are yet to come. But the leaves are moving from deep green to dusty green to orange. Threads of color are present in the number of the maples I as I set out today. We will have more warm days before the snow flies. But the long lingering days of summer are gone. Deep rich saturation of green against the sky will change into a multicolored pastiche. And then there will be bare skeletal fingers spread out toward the grey ceiling of late fall and winter.
Got up before it was light this morning. Held off on setting out until I had read the paper and eaten my oatmeal. Spent a few minutes slowly sipping my coffee as opposed to gulping it down. When I went out the sun was not yet above the treeline. My down vest felt good. There are still many, many beautiful blooms out. Even though it interrupts the flow of my walk, I do have to stop and look at these flowers. They bring peace to a soul in these troubled times.
Have not seen any rabbits this morning. Have seen a squirrel or two. The furry tree rats are moving with such kinetic energy gathering up scraps for the winter. Isn’t that what we’re all doing in this for seven months of the pandemic? Furtive little trips to grocery stores to grab this and that in such quantity that we don’t have to return for a long time. The world is different. The world is so very different these days.
And before Emerson, Lake and Palmer there was the Nice.
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