...I was not ready for the winter.
As I mulled over this Stevie Nicks lyric from her song Nightbird, which exactly describes how I felt today, I remembered a Mutts comic strip I read earlier in the week that paints autumn in a far more joyful light. It quoted Camus:
"Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower."
Just as the blush arrives on a peony bud about to open in the spring, so the glow of fire appears along the tops of maple trees as the nights grow cooler and sunlight slowly dwindles in amount and intensity.
The mimosa trees on the streets of Newark are fast becoming burnished in the same gold that accompanies blooming sunflowers in July.
The burning bush in front of my chiropractor's office, that horridly invasive but most resplendent denizen of the fall, had a smattering of intensely red leaves this week, with hundreds more to come.
My parents' pin oak, which my dad and I planted in the early 80s, will have nothing to do with the pageantry; it will go kicking and screaming spitefully with dead brown leaves hanging limply from its branches - and even that will be late in the season.
Clearly, my trepidation over the coming of winter (no pun intended, Game of Thrones) can wait several more weeks. Point to Camus.
No comments:
Post a Comment