Tuesday, November 1, 2016

In Which The Trees Begin To Smolder

The trees started smoldering today.

I noticed it as I glanced up on my way to the mail box. The tips of our neighborly Japanese Maples, usually so green, were dancing as newly birthed flames of red and gold against blue sky. Plodding back with an armload of uninteresting mail, I glanced up again. It was such a warming sight and certainly made up for the lack of pleasantries in the box, I mused, willing my bare feet to pad more slowly along the warm cement path behind the quicker pace of the girls.

Late afternoon found me drowning desires for a nap in the steaming depths of milky apple-sage coffee. The girls were off with Luana making up for play days lost to an autumn cold, so Will and I had snatched the opportunity to hold a proper conversation with one another. He's been buried beneath a literal mountain of deadlines this month and I've been busy with my own respective doings, so it was nice to exchange more than the usual snippets of this and that. On the way home, I glanced over the rim of my cup to the trees flitting speedily past my window and realized that the same seasonal display was occurring beyond our neighborhood. Everywhere, trees are sparking a spreading blaze of red, yellow, gold, burgundy. . . . An unusual display for a sunny coast.

I adore autumn but have never quite been able to reconcile myself to our nontraditional version. There's no real call for heavy knits and hot cider; no smoky hints in the air; no true battle between fire and frost. This year though, as I'm caught off guard by the fast advent of the season, I'm doubly surprised to find myself not minding our usual mild autumnal nod. 

I like that I can swathe the girls in sweaters and let them tramp about with bare toes; that we can enjoy warm days at the beach yet come home to combat cooler evenings with hot soup; that every call for use of our unromantic gas powered hearth and every leafy fluttering of crimson and gold never fails to bring wondrous delight. Best though, is this slow enlightening that it's not just the cozy exterior of the season that enchants me, but also the mystique and richness of it. Knowing this, I think I'm learning to dip below the multi-faceted surface of it all and enjoy it regardless of the particular facet facing me. 

But I mean, I really can't help but love a good tree smoldering.