Nature Blog #5: Thoughts of Foliage

Monday, October 5, 2009
3:30 pm

The clouds are moving. Their large cumulus and stratus puffs blow through the afternoon sky. The sun highlights the western side of each cloud, blinding the shapes I see. This is the coldest it has been yet, since coming here to my balcony spot. I feel the October air on my ankles. I can smell the cold in the wind; it smells like wet hair after a shower with hints of lemongrass and aloe. I am covered by the rooftop and guarded by the honey locust. And I’m jealous of the clouds’ open space, their exposure to sunlight, their ability to move freely. Every time I look up through the fluttering leaves, I see a different cloud of white, a different shape and sense.

I just got back from a trip to Vermont. My husband and I drove through the mountains and trees that make up the state. It was “foliage” weekend in South Burlington, where we spent our time. As we approached the state, the landscape turned richer and richer with color. It was like watching a blank canvas go from potential to painting. The leaves transformed into amber and gold, red and deep pink as we drove further north. I thought back to the trees in Pittsburgh, saw them following this same path soon. For miles, I stared at the multicolored canopies. The trees bled into one another with colors and hues that merged like a mosaic. I felt full of apples and honeysuckle, warmth and nostalgia, hay rides and hikes just looking at them. The landscape of trees was so vast, so brightened by the afternoon glare that we did not have to slow down to see the colors. They radiated a joyous glow that permeated the land and bordered our road of travel.

As I sit here on my balcony, I envision what these trees will look like soon. I wonder if they’ll emit that same clarity and color that the trees of Vermont possess up north. It makes me think of how seasons move. Growing up in Pennsylvania, I’ve always known the seasonal time line that this state experiences. I never think about how the seasons shift from state to state. I can see the cooler air coming down from Vermont, slowly wiping out all the green and lush and leaving the colors of fall. If I slow it down, I see the black spruce to the left of my balcony slowly fade into brown and trickle to the ground. I see the quaking aspen to my right blend into shades of orange and blonde. I see what I believe to be a chinquapin oak transform its shiny teethed leaves into shades of red far more beautiful than any lipstick.

Vermont gave me an early sighting of a change in season that is on its way. Like seeing into the future, I know what transformations this circle of trees has coming. I look forward to their coloring and anticipate their change of clothes. But for now, as the sun moves stealthily between these trees, I’ll enjoy them in their envious green.