Monday, October 26, 2009

Monday, October 26, 2009 - No comments

The Last Golden Saturday

"Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile."
- William Cullen Bryant

"October's poplars are flaming torches, lighting the way to winter."
- Nora Blair



Autumn is in her dusk now, it seems. The brilliant yellow trees on the hill that announced the season with much fanfare back in September, back when I could still enjoy a book under their shade without a sweater, have long since surrendered their leaves to whipping winds and children's boots. The weeks have paraded by in a riot of colour, with each tree in succession blazing forth for its moment on centre stage and then scattering its beauty to the ground like a thousand gleaming stars. Each day, a new array of delight is strewn across my path, and I can't find enough heavy books in the house to rightfully preserve these delicate treasures.

Fall is said to be a time of melancholy and decay, when the world sheds its glory and settles into the quiet death of winter before coming to life again in the spring. To me it is quite the contrary - it is autumn that makes the world seem most alive. It is both breathtaking and surprising - every day a new landscape, each one more dazzling than the last.

Today, as I crunched my way through maple leaves as big as my head and breathed in the crisp, heavenly air, I found myself wishing those blazing poplars - the last act of the show - could stick around for an encore performance. The way the sun illuminates their shining bronze leaves, they are just too spectacular to lose so soon. And yet I know that just a few short afternoons from now, as the sun begins to set a little earlier and the smoke begins to curl from the chimneys, they, too, will find their way into my collection and their pomp and splendour will be only a delicious memory.

And so, beloved Autumn, even as I savour your most glorious days, I prepare to bid you farewell. I shall be right here where you left me, pumpkin spice latte in hand and pear crisp in the oven, breathlessly awaiting your return.