The Latin word autumnus is actually predated by the French word automne. Before autumn became commonly known, the season was referred to as harvest which is also a lovely term that evokes images of farmers hard at work in the fields bringing in their crops.
There are thousands of reasons to love autumn. It is the flashiest month. Its color bursts upon the scene and quickly fades. Nature's fireworks. Not only because of the reds, yellows, golds and oranges, but because of the unpredictability of the season. We never know exactly when the maples will go from faded green to bright orange. Some years the colors are dim - like an aging watercolor. At other times the boldness is breathtaking with the heft of an oil portrait layered with just the right mixture.
The art metaphor extends from the individual trees to the patchwork quilt of the mountains that guard our valley. On those days when the air is clean and the sky is bright, the texture of the mountains is palpable. A feast for the eyes.
Dear autumn, I feel to the pore
The speechless beauty of your
Stippled canvas.
Your leaves amass
And add to the deep, rich brew
That accompanies your hue.
I drink you with the sunrise
Each dawn a sweet new surprise.
Dear autumn.
