FALL IN THE PATINA MEADOW FOREST

Though some may favor the fullness of summer, I believe that this brief moment of autumn is when the forest is at its finest.

There’s a special beauty in this in-between. No longer a sea of vibrant green, not yet a tangle of unadorned branches and brambles. The warm spectrum of leaves feels like Goldilocks’ choice—just right.

When they still cling to branches, they catch the light and glow, capturing the sun’s fading luminosity as it slips quicker and quicker from the sky. Then the wind blows, and a leaf falls from the comfort of its branch. It drifts down gracefully, meandering through the air, weightless, in no rush to reach its final resting place.

It arrives on the ground, where it meets my boot as it falls—a fanfare announcing my arrival in the woods.

As I walk, it’s the subtle and subdued that demand attention.

Looking up, I notice the thinning canopy, light spilling onto places once hidden in shadow. While I may come to miss the green leaves, the space left by their fade and fall allows birdsong to carry farther than before. Like the crunch of fallen leaves, their symphony welcomes me home. My eyes catch the musician sitting on the bare branches, the red of a cardinal brighter now against the backdrop of a greying sky.

I turn my gaze to the ground. A mushroom peeks out from beneath the thick carpet of fallen foliage. An insect I can’t identify makes its way through the shaggy rug, seemingly on a mission, one I’ll never know. I follow the tall stem of a plant up to the top and notice that fuzzy seed heads now replace the bright purple blooms I greeted weeks prior. What hope is had for the future. I watch as the wind carries a few away, hopefully to a habitable home.

As I round the bend, I come across our cows, digesting the day in a clearing. I join them. They chew on cud; I chew on ideas. We are drastically different beings, yet we share the same moment in the space between the trees. As I rise to return to my day, I run my hand through their thickening coats, a reminder that colder days are ahead.

And so I walk home. Down paths obstructed by thick growth weeks ago. Through dried creeks where the earth thirsts for rain. Around bends and under branches.

Finally, I arrive at the gate, leaving lighter than I entered, a bit of my burden left behind in the leaf litter.

If you have yet to walk among the changing landscape this season, I encourage you to do so. You never know what you will find and what you may be able to leave behind. 

Love,

Leila