A portrait of watery blue stretches out to embrace green seas over an endless horizon. The sun, worn from summer’s blaze, now hangs lazily content that her job is done. This is autumn, an end to warm carefree moments of blissful abandon, a time when nature hides or takes flight in preparation of the coming tides of winter.
I am surrounded by the spectacle of a season most painted, for this is a time when art and nature conspire to create a picture of unrivalled beauty. This is a feat of wonderment, a clash of glorious colours and the betrayal of an end.
Wandering now, amidst fields of saffron, gold and amber it is easy to forget a nagging melancholia. A whispering breeze tussles with my coat as it rips rust and flame from the boughs of a nearby tree. It is raining tones of lustful scarlet, chestnut and carmine, falling as gilded wings from the heavens above.
In formation and flying high, squadrons of geese in retreat from a landscape coloured by the corrosive poison of a changing season. A Jay swoops from the branches of a nearby Oak to contest ownership of autumn’s bounty with a bushy tailed squirrel.
Nature continues to play her part, as if oblivious or perhaps mindful of the coming days of inclement weather. This is one last passionate embrace with air warm enough to breath, one final act before the end.
The cheerful, untroubled moments of lethargy, fuelled by the sweet morning sound of bird song shall soon be gone. Time has brought a curtain call to life, and its actors are busy in response.
Winter soon shall weave her insidious cloak and summer will be once more but a memory. I mourn not the yesterday but long for tomorrow for I find no comfort in the in-between.