I love driving in Autumn. The roadways are alive with hundreds of dancing leaves. Each one twirling and jumping in the wind trails of cars that pass them by.
And in the fields, nature's great gusts send them surfing through the grass or sailing from the trees as they leap from their safe, lifelong confines and, in their final days, taste freedom for the first time. Floating and dancing in groups as they explore the world.
In a short while their vacation will be over and the trees will be dead and bare, awaiting next year's rebirth. But for now I am reminded, every time I drive, that nothing dies so beautiful as a tree.
For whatever reason, I am always reminded of who I am during Autumn. It is for me a coming home. I love the way fall smells and looks and tastes. I am at peace, I am at home whenever fall is here.
And in the fields, nature's great gusts send them surfing through the grass or sailing from the trees as they leap from their safe, lifelong confines and, in their final days, taste freedom for the first time. Floating and dancing in groups as they explore the world.
In a short while their vacation will be over and the trees will be dead and bare, awaiting next year's rebirth. But for now I am reminded, every time I drive, that nothing dies so beautiful as a tree.
For whatever reason, I am always reminded of who I am during Autumn. It is for me a coming home. I love the way fall smells and looks and tastes. I am at peace, I am at home whenever fall is here.
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