Return of an Old Friend

"You expect to be sad in the fall.  Part of you

died each year when the leaves fell from the

trees and their branches were bare against

 the wind and the cold, wintery light."

Ernest Hemingway

Fall has forever been my favorite season.  Artistically painted trees in every imaginable hue; the presence of birds lifting spirits with song; crisp fresh air carrying the earth's fragrances; pumpkins and apples; and being mesmerized by an evening fire.

Autumn is the return of an old friend dressed in many colors, seeding inspiration and gracing the heart with wholesome affection.  Time spent outside is highlighted by the rustle of falling leaves, the crunch on pathways and everything pumpkin stirring childhood memories.

The young maple tree across the way has been my calendar.  I have watched it bud in the spring, sprout green growth in the summer, and now gently let go of precious leaves. Sadness creeps over me as I acknowledge the last of the hummingbirds have fled and the lonely cry of the crow reverberates in my head. The valley is turning into a stick drawing as I face winter with dread.