Summer's Endings, Fall's Beginnings
With August at its close, it feels, as always, like the unofficial end of summer. The flowerpots on my balcony are starting to look sparse and straggly, but at this point, I no longer care, because there is the promise of new incoming beauty. A few of the trees are turning. The other day, on a walk in my ’hood, I picked up this red maple leaf, and my heart gave a little skip of joy. Fall and its vibrant colours never fail to delight me. Yes, they inspire wonder in others too (how could they not?) but sometimes I think that, if you didn’t grow up with fall, if it was never commonplace in your youth, then you have that little extra feeling of enchantment at how spectacular it is. If, as a child, you never leapt with glee into a pile of crisp, colourful leaves, now, when you see a heap of them, you’re tempted to dive in. I won’t, of course—old bones—but the thought does occur. I wonder if discovering some things later in life add to your enjoyment of them; cause you to look at the...
