never mind that there is only one falling leaf right here - in real life there are thousands. there are patches of green where the lawn is left bare, the wind sweeping the leaves into deep piles, only to scatter them again. never mind that it is the end of november - it is warm. ish. the sky is gray and the trees undressing - through empty branches, i can once again see the church steeple down the street. the doors and windows are open and the sound of autumn rushes through the house. it is the first day of advent. four sundays, four weeks, and four days until christmas. let us begin with the wind, and try to look forward more than we look behind us. there is a path we must make, a new one, once again and always.
i feel a sudden need for less color. this feeling comes and goes in my life, this year especially, this time especially, the leaves across the ground, in the air, still hanging to leaves, all the color i want. it will change, i think, when the leaves are gone and the cold settles in, but for now? only softness will do. the faded colors of real life. yesterday i took down the big painting in my living room, leaving the wall bare, taupe, against the white of the couch. i like the space it brings to the daylight, the way the lamplight reflects in the evening. the color of empty, ready to be filled, not knowing it is full already, not knowing it will spill over.
across the street byron begins to rake. the leaves are to his knees and i know he must feel it is useless to try, but not only will he try, he'll succeed. i've watched him for years. by the end of the day there will be bags of leaves sitting curbside, by tomorrow it will look as if he's done nothing.
when i step outside, the cat follows.
i quickly lose her to the background of autumn.