Fall is my jam. It’s the best of the seasons. Hands down. Or should I say, leaves down.
The sad thing is, here in Tallahassee, autumn is slow to arrive. Leaves remain a stubborn green and they stick to the trees like glue.
Now, I’m glad I live here in the land of three seasons: Summer, Summer Light, and That Odd Cool Spell Of Indeterminate Length, but sometimes I grow envious of places where the trees put on a regular fashion show with their audaciously bold oranges and reds and yellows. Here we get green and an occasional brown. Yay.
Growing up in the panhandle of Texas I became accustomed to some slight color changes in September. I loved riding my bike through crunchy yellow leaves, while pretending they were the bones of my enemies. I was an odd child.
But in school our teachers would hang paper leaves all over the classroom in colors I assumed weren’t true to life. Red leaves? Purplish leaves? No way. But then I grew up and for a brief time, lived in Illinois where I saw these colors in the wild and I wanted to capture them and take them home with me along with snazzy pine cones.
I made decorations with them and placed them on my dining table then realized there were bugs in the pine cones and we had to call an exterminator. Still, they were pretty til the very end.
Oh Fall. I love you so.