fall.

Fall.

Where I come from, the 'in between' seasons don't have a lot to say 
as summer reaches out her oppressive arms long into autumn and spring. 
There are almost no deciduous trees at all and the landscape remains for the most part unaltered by the rotation of the earth. 
When it does come, the change is subtle 
and you barely get the chance to enjoy the slightly brisk nip in the air before you realise 
it's already winter.

But this is not home.

This is Canada. This is the Eastern Townships. This is Maple country.

Beginning while the daylight still lingers long into the late afternoon and the lady bugs settle on the windows, 
the green of the leaves of a single branch of a tree over here and a tree over there appears to brighten.

The next day a few more trees have followed suit and are faintly yellowing 
while the brightening leaves of the first changing trees are beginning to glow.

Not three days more pass by and already the transformation of the first turning leaves is complete. Some are luminescent lemonade, others are filling with butternut pumpkin orange and gold and still others seduce you with a cherry-bomb ravishing red lipstick burn.

Every day another branch, 
another tree, 
another patch of the forest 
succumbs to the season,
erupts in a blazing chorus of fire until 
Finally
As far as the eye can see
The whole natural world seems to be singing a glorious joyful hymn
"Everything is changing, what has come will go,
But notice it! See it! Sense the change in the world! 
Observe the changing world within you. 
You are part of this world after all"

And so as the days become shorter you spend a little more time in the sun
Delighting in each remaining light filled hour while you can
Picking the last cherry tomatoes and savouring their sweetness with the heightened awareness and appreciation that comes when one senses
that time is running out.

The fall is drama and jazz. 
A middle eight sax solo on vintage vinyl, 
crescendos of rich warm tones over a steady swing,
all smiles closed eyes and "mmmmm". 
Each day building on the beauty of the last
until suddenly one morning
Without any warning
You notice that the most beautiful day has already passed. 
For while your eyes were focussed on the rising, roaring kaleidoscope in the canopies 
You did not see that the decline, the fading of the palate to brown had already begun, 
Some branches are already bare, 
The trails are being hidden in debris
And soon
Everything will fall down.

For Viviane and Pierre who were home for us in the fall.