Autumn came, with wind and gold.

-Henry David Thoreau

Autumn in New York, why does it seem so inviting?

-Vernon Duke

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

-George Eliot

We talk about the disappearance of long warm days that have been saturated by the sun as the “death”of summer. 

But summer must take leave, like wisps of smoke floating gently from a fading fire.

Lush green slowly turns into an umbrella of bright reds, oranges and yellows that breathe new life into a now chilled existence.

Natures chaos, its origins unknown, comes sweeping down and transforms the woods, separating the new brilliance from its lifeblood.

As the trees sway and moan in protest of a slow eventual death, the leaves fall with the rhythm of lightly falling snow, accumulating on the soft earth only to decay as the sun’s light continues its downward spiral.

With brutal awareness, the passage of time will soon bring beloved darkness and the promise of the next season. 

The beautiful and precious cycle forges ahead.