It's finally here...the season of mist, copper leaves, toadstools, and rain boots. Of cold woodsmoke scented mornings, early twilight, and the first twinkling thoughts of Christmas dancing in our heads.
The autumn season is so precious. In autumn, I find myself taking in every little detail, every little change in the foliage and weather. I am hungry to get out into the woods with my camera in hand. I want to document the beauty of fall every chance I get, because this time of year is so fleeting.
I'm so sentimental about autumn. The crows certainly caw all the year through, but in fall, I always seem to think their caws belong to the season. There are so many little things that feel like they are an imperative part of my fall experience...even the geese flying over, honking, in a V formation, feels more like a tradition than an act of nature. The way the fog creeps with white fingers into the creases of the hills; the sight of the church steeple and red shingled rooftops of the village against the orange woods; folks bundled in bright scarves, picking over pumpkin heaps at the farmer's market; it's funny how all of these sights sometimes feel like they were created just to bring me joy.
Every year I find at least one of those yellow leaves with a little heart cut out of the middle by nature's hand. Another thing that feels like an autumn tradition.