Beauty Intensified

My mornings feel a bit different now. The air is cooler on the porch and I welcome the warmth from my coffee cup, blue blanket, and space heater. I am recovering from a wicked head cold that has left me wiped out but grateful that my bone marrow and mighty white blood cells are fighting for me.

Every day is more crisp. The tulip poplar’s lost half its leaves. The ones remaining are a mixture of green and gold. The cat birds are gone, though I’ve yet to see the juncos. There are a pair of wrens that visit. I am partial to the wren. I like the unique motor-sound it emits. It’s the only bird who makes eye contact with me.

It’s hard to miss the beauty of the trees and sky: a view from a window, a walk up the street, a drive to a nearby park. I feel the need to squint from the intensity of color and clear blue skies; the cool air dries my eyes and throat. Yet, I embrace it all, not wanting to miss one moment. Joe and I took the three dogs to a local park. He walked Ivy and Stella; I accompanied Franklin. We walked the long path that leads from the parking area to the woods. Before we reached the entrance to the shaded trees, I was stopped by the most beautiful expanse of trees. My husband, Ivy, and Stella continued forward but I was glued to the ground. I couldn’t take my eyes off the sight of the orange, red, gold, brown, and green. I grabbed my phone and attempted to capture the sight. What made it even more remarkable was the moon visible in the blue sky above.

We didn’t walk far, but enough to soak up the energy of the woods. If we stood still we could hear the sound of the falling leaves. They don’t fall like a cannon ball would. They take their time and dance on the air, moving side to side, and tumbling one end over the other until they land, gracefully, on the ground.

We turned to leave, but at a slower pace. As we neared the parking lot, I looked back at the row of trees I had photographed earlier. From this vantage point it did not have the magnificence of seeing it as it looked earlier around the bend. In my mind’s eye, I imagined it, though. Perspective matters.