Nature Blog #4: A Fall Feeling

Sunday, September 27, 2009
6:30 pm

It definitely feels like fall is here. Not only is the air much cooler, but I can see patches of trees in the distant starting to change color. Two black crows fly overhead at a slow steady stride, setting a calm mood on this quiet Sunday evening. It has been raining for two days, a constant steady rush of wetness that seems to have washed away all the summer flowers and budding branches, a little house cleaning as fall arrives. Even the air that normally has wafts of cigarettes from my neighbor or oil from the carpenter that works below, smells clean like fresh washed clothes. The birds are quiet this evening; I imagine they are still hiding in between tight branches from the downpour that wouldn’t cease. But the crickets are strong, a steady rhythmic beat that sounds like a percussion ensemble, with a drum roll of roaring cars zipping down Washington Blvd.

The sun has finally broken through after two days of gray and cloud. I can see its amber glow highlighting a section of trees to my left. They are the tallest trees in the area, bushy up top with long and lean trunks. As the sun makes its way down, they are the first to feel its fading body heat. These trees to my left draw my attention to a group of birds, each perched on a different branch of a naked brown tree, half filled with crunchy dead leaves hanging on until the next winds pass, and half completely void of any leaves. Each bird’s silhouette is distinct and bold with a cotton blue backdrop and branches sprouting like fingertips. I cannot see what type of bird they are; it is too far away. And I wish I had a pair of binoculars so I could observe this family meeting. The heads are very small, with robust rounded chests that stick out like balloons in the trees’ open air.

Above them is the moon slightly more than half full. It looks like a large pebble floating in the sky, a smooth white and gray drifter that follows the flow and is clear like water. I cannot see the sun, though I feel the warmth of its last rays and glow hidden behind the honey locust's edges.

Sundays in late September, when I pull out my sweaters and jeans always take me back to my childhood, to the beginning of school years, a new classroom, a new teacher. No matter how old I am or where I am in the world, when the weather changes direction and the cooler fall winds come, I cannot ignore the nostalgia that seems to rest in between the tree’s and the sky. It is an air of younger years, of making new friends and wearing new backpacks. It is football games and field hockey practice, homework and spaghetti dinners. There is anxiousness about this emotion, a good and nervous feeling at the same time. Even years later as an adult, I can remember what it felt like to be a child or teenager in the fall. I can remember looking out the window from my desk, or sitting on my front porch with friends, or walking to a football game, and seeing the very same moon I see tonight.