Saturday, October 27, 2012
No matter how hard I try, I feel like I can never capture the vibrant beauty of fall. Not in words. Not in photographs.
How do you capture the myriad swathes of color threading the mountainsides?
How do you capture the thrill of a change in the air? A cold edge to the sunlight? The smell of dried leaves crushed underfoot?
How do you capture the unique beauty of each changing leaf?
How do you describe the quiet atmosphere of a fall morning walk?
I'm still trying to find the answers. And I'll keep trying every year. Twenty-five falls have passed in my lifetime and the thrill of it never fades. I never tire of the beauty. I always feel a little sad as the trees finish shedding their bright fall wardrobes. It seems appropriate that a riot of colors precedes the blanket of white that is winter. As if we are getting a chance to store the colors away for those long winter months, like a squirrel his nuts.