I took an evening stroll today to appreciate all the beauty that my quiet town has to offer in this transitional time between summer and winter; everything embraced in an autumn glow. The whole place has a cozy, cooked apple smell about it, a little sweet, a little tart, warmed by the afternoon sun, with hints of woodsmoke in the air. The source of the promising aroma is the ground, strewn with apples, some half rotten, blemished with the unmistakeable marks of being homegrown.
Although afternoons have still been as warm as summer days, after the recent first rain everything is awaiting the brisk winds and frost that will accompany our mild but not unanticipated winter. Apples are blushing at the sun’s gentle caress, a Rumpelstiltskin of trees is turning all the leaves to gold, and even the poison oak vines, as reviled as they are, display a stunning paintbox of colors. As I gaze around, soaking in the character, the little things that this small town has to offer, I realize the worn beauty of the weathered fences and battered tractors, the age-old orchards and rolling hills of grape vines.
I’d love to sit and watch, to observe and pick up every little secret, little change. I’d love to wander the hills, contently living, breathing, among the warm, anticipatory energy of fall time, documenting the peace and beauty of nature.
The autumn glow.