Autumn, 1993

Fall is coming. Yes, already. Though in truth, it has been here since the Autumnal Equinox, it has only been it the last few days that fall has made its presence known.

Ever so slowly, an isolated tree here or there would begin to change color, but it was hardly enough to grab one’s attention. Even when several trees began changing, it sparked little more than "Oh, look at that."

But come the first cold snap, everyone suddenly wakes up to see that in their failure to open their eyes, nature has gone on without them. The trees are in fact bursting with color, and it takes only a slight wind to fill the air with falling leaves and the unmistakable scent of a winter that is just waiting to come alive.

At present, I am sitting in the middle of a large grassy field that is surrounded by trees of many shapes and sizes. The sun has already set, and the sky is completely overcast — the kind that always makes it feel colder and darker than it really is.

There are several distant patches of forest that are heavily laden with migrating birds. What is normally heard as a series of musical trills has been replaced by an overpowering chatter of too many winged animals all talking at once.

But as the last of sunset’s light begins to fade, the chatter dies down, and the winds gently rock the annual travelers to sleep. The details from individual trees slowly merge into one another, and the twilight carries us from the world of light to that of darkness.

(C) 1993, Ashley Guberman

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