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"The soul that can speak through the eyes, can also kiss with a gaze."
~Gustav Adolfo Becquer

I can feel her in the air..

>> Sunday, September 04, 2011

Ever so slightly, but it's there.
I'm on my porch, coffee beside me and The Blue Moon Cafe on in the background.  It's humid and 80 degrees already.  The wind very gently blows through a chime I have strung.  It tinkles softly as its melodious notes and warm breeze wafts its way through my hair, gently blowing a tousled  curl, giving me some relief from this cloistering end-of-the-summer heat.

But I can still feel it



With its blazingly glorious colors on fire, like the cracklin' sound of a log in the hearth. Its tendrils of smokey flames lapping and curling it's way around the seasoned log, as flames shoot high.

I love this time of year that we're entering into. It's usually ushered in with such grace. A cool night here and there, a leaf or three found, not fading in color, but intensifying its brilliance.  Almost as if it begs to be noticed. Its last hurrah, before paling, falling. Blown down a path, to settle itself in front of you like a sacrifice.

Many people, when thinking of Autumn, automatically associate that with the coming of Old Man Winter.  And though there are some, like me, who welcome this beautiful time, many seem to miss the true brilliance and wonderment that comes with this too short season.  To them, it signifies not only the ending of a glorious Summer but the pending dread of a very long and often bitterly cold Winter. 
If ever there was a proverbial bed of roses to stop and smell, signifying us not to miss what's in front of us, to appreciate what Nature clearly wants us to experience.. Autumn is very much like that. 
No need to look for that bed of roses leaves, its all around you.

The rustling of the leaves through the trees, while the crisp Autum-inspired breeze that entices you to be seduced by her.  Imploring you to take notice of her Artwork, her own canvas brilliantly awashed with hues of deep oranges, burnt siennas, rusts, golden yellows. and rich reds.  She paints her canvas with effortless strokes from her own natural paintbrush.  And the likes of artists like Monet and others can only aspire to be like her.

Living in an area that affords us all four Seasons, this is my favorite.  There is no 'pending doom' with the onslaught of Winter. To approach Autumn like that takes your focus off the wonder that's around you.  Enjoy it. That's what she's there for.  Enjoy it.

Enjoy the crispness in the air even when the sun shines brightly.
Enjoy the bounty of Summer's Harvest.. Grapes, Pears, Butternut Squash, Pumpkins and Pomegranates, all wonderfully ripe and ready for the picking, brought on by our wonderful summer.
Apple picking and apple cider. Cinnamon sticks.
Hay bales and hay rides.  Take yourself out and walk a country road with the sounds of the birds and leafs rustling your music.

And if you want to extend the wonder of this season, do like me...
Spend a weekend in The Adirondacks the third or fourth week in September, where the foliage is at it's Peak and utterly Outstanding!!.  And then come back to Central New York to enjoy it again Mid-October.

Just enjoy it.  Every time a leaf turns from a summer green to a brilliant copper or deep rust, she's trying to get your attention.
Stop and view the leaves. She wants you to.

Autumn's in the air.

© 2011 Greeneyezz

1 Reflections:

Ruthie 3:30 PM, September 10, 2011  

Dearest ZZ,

What an absoutely beautiful and refreshing post, like poetry for the soul.

Hope you are well.

Lots of love!

xoxo R.

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Summit of Mount Jo 9/24/10 A few friends were worried about me. They were worried about me hiking Mount Jo by myself, so I took this video to show how many people were around that day if I needed assistance. I even chatted with several and had a few people share a glass of wine with me at the summit. :) Mount Jo. 9/24/10 After the crowd left This is what the summit looked like... with no people on it. In the previous video I took, I showed all the people who had made this same hike to her summit.
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