October 03, 2007
In spring time, green creeps slowly over the landscape, and by May, my eyes have adjusted to the lush green world around me. After a whole summer, I'm used to green lawns and green lilac bushes and green foliage in my woods so thick you can't see for more than ten feet.
But in early October, a maple tree that has been green for months, a tree that I drive past every day on my way to work, will suddenly turn red as the cholorophyll drains from its leaves, leaving them glowing and translucent. When I stand under a maple tree on a sunny day, I feel completely surrounded by brilliant colour.
It's spectacular because it happens so quickly, practically overnight. And it happens on such a large scale, branches and branches of leaves, whole tall trees, entire groves of trees, hillsides and mountains full of trees. Even though I've lived in this landscape my whole life, the sudden bursting colour still catches me by surprise, sort of the way I feel when I look at my youngest child, sitting quietly on the couch reading a book, and notice his long black eyelashes, his lovely clear skin, his silky hair, and think to myself again, with a sudden surge of feeling, what a beautiful child he is.
Posted by jo(e)