Gray and windy morning. Took the long way to work. Rural roads. Rolling hills. Farm fields. The colors seem more vibrant on gray mornings than when it’s sunny. Why is that? That winter grass the farmers plant is such a vibrant green… greener than summer. The bleached corn stalks are a nameless color… but a color nonetheless. The conifers seem to have challenged themselves to a contest to see how many shades of green they can invent. And the deciduous trees… (In a comment on this post, My friend Deb described it thus: “Autumn was in glorious and riotous abandon.” Apt.) Sugar maple red… poplar yellow… dogwood purple… yellow-brown oak…
The wind coaxed yellow leaves from maples or poplars and they did a dance for me… fluttering in the air, then skittering across the road. This inspired a mixed flock of black birds… red-winged blackbirds, starlings, grackles, rusty blackbirds… to try a Leaf Blizzard Dance. They kept their choreography in the air, however, and left out the skittering part.
I thought several times that I should take a picture. Yet I never stopped the car, never snapped a single shot. Lack of faith… I simply did not believe that a picture could truly capture the beauty that seemed to seep into my bones on this glorious morning.
I felt blessed as I drove into the driveway at work… I could not stop smiling.