Autumn’s Melancholy Offset by Nature’s Vibrant Hues
For just a few moments I stood watching him. Suddenly, he dove below the tree line and out of my sight. I was sure he spotted a meal swimming in the river. The fishing for both man and bird was good there in front of the dam.
I waited before I resumed my walk, hoping he would come above the trees so I could see him again. A second or two later he flew up into my line of sight once more, and perched at the top of one of the tallest pines, I glimpsed his freshly caught meal still quivering in his talons. When he finished he took flight, his wings beating the air. I stood there with my hands still cupped over my eyes watching as he flew down river and out of site.
Only a few steps later I was at the path that took me into the woods. As I hiked through the trees I gazed at the red and yellow canopy over head. The sun shone through the leaves, illuminating them, and infused the air with a golden cast. Having reached the heart of the woodlands where the trees were densely populated, I stopped and savored the colors that were all around me. I mourned the fact that in just a few weeks’ time snow clouds would reign in the sky, the trees’ branches would be bare, and today’s gloriously sunlit red and yellow leaves would be on the ground, mud-covered and trampled.
Something stirred at my feet that brought me out of my meditations. The leaves on the ground in front of me moved. A chipmunk was finding his way under the mosaic that covered the path. The moment he poked his head out from underneath a red maple leaf and saw me towering over him, he scurried away to find cover under nearby ferns. I chuckled at my little friend’s skittishness. Chipmunks have been one of my favorite northland animals. They are always so quick and busy, cheerfully going about their business.
At that moment I realized the wood that surrounded me was alive with all manner of chipmunks, squirrels, and birds hurriedly preparing for winter. I was so engrossed in the mural of leaves that I didn’t hear the cacophony of birds until just then. A pair of brown squirrels scurried around on a couple of branches nearby. One stopped what he was doing, sat on his haunches, and eyed me. Flicking his bushy tail, he chattered away as if to say, “Get busy!” Amused at his scolding, I knew that I, too, had chores to finish before winter arrived.
After taking one last long gaze, I turned around, shoved my hands in my pockets, lowered my head against the anticipation of winter’s chill, and headed in the direction of home.
Is this a mistake? Where is the outrage against Obama? Tsk, tsk.
The piece is a little heavy on modifiers and traces of hackneyed expressions, but I identify with the sentiments completely. Now those colors have given way to bare trees and November brown, with only some of the oaks and beech still hanging on. It must be hunting season
Our kayaking is still good, though. The frosts kill off the pondweed and the remote cedar swamps are now easier to reach.
Then summer fades and passes and October comes. We’ll smell smoke then, and feel an unexpected sharpness, a thrill of nervousness, swift elation, a sense of sadness and departure.
–Thomas Wolfe
And should I have the right to smile?
Ah yes, the Manistee, the Au Sable… memories galore.
Detroit goes up and down. And right now the city is down. However, the great north, while not as prosperous, has its own prosperity in its great outdoor picture purfection. This is one great article. Thanks for writing it Kim and thanks to PJM for posting it. I owe ya.ll one !! Good Luck !
Thank you so much for this post. I have been to Northern Michigan for the Autumn colors and you just brought me back! M119 and the tunnel of leaves was wonderful last year. And I hope the leaves were just as beautiful this year. I will be visiting soon I hope… Maybe a bit of skiing at Boyne Highlands or Nubs Nob for the fun of it!
How nice it is that someplace had an autumn. Here in Colorado, after a very cool, wet summer, we didn’t have an autumn because of a huge early snowstorm that froze the leaves just when they were turning. That storm dropped 19 inches of snow in our western Denver suburb. The one this weekend dropped another 9-10 inches. That’s 2.5 feet of snow and it isn’t even Thanksgiving yet.
Thanks El Nino.