W H E N O C T O B E R G O E S
The golden colors are vanishing too quickly, brown replacing crimson and sienna. Autumn started with an arresting display of red maples, brighter than usual, a gasp of color. The aspens and oaks followed quickly, but didn't last. The season is all too brief. I want to hold on to it, charmed as I am by the light filtering through the quaking leaves, a meshwork of color, breathtaking. Now the leaves are dropping in crackling piles of duff in the silent woods where the birds have already departed. I don't want to let it go, instead recreating the colors with paint on paper, a collection of leaves on my table, curling and drying. I have a favorite song this time of year, a wistful, melancholy "When October goes" by Johnny Mercer. I echo the line "Oh, how I hate to see October go".