The Real Fall.
The transformation has begun. Bright and shiny leaves have almost entirely abandoned the trees.
Many people claim to love fall, but most really only love the early part of fall, when everything is still sunny and the trees with their colors are like, Zok! Pow! Bang!
My fall happens later when the trees get quiet. Leaves in piles and bunches, rotting. Gusts of wind carrying them in unpredictable, violent patterns.
When the cold sets in and the colors fade. Dead foliage piled on my front steps. Dead foliage following me into the house. Dead foliage clinging to the bike, the tires, the brakes.
It’s dark at 4:30pm and the fair-weather crowd has gone back inside. The streets can breathe a little. Wool and embrocation rule the day.
Calmness and dark.