Autumn

It seems that autumn is apparently here. Not much transition this year, unless you count the mild summer we had as fall- in which case we actually got far more than our normal two weeks of the perfect weather that generally marks the start of fall in Illinois. Without a doubt, autumn is my favorite time of year. I am not sure which part I love the most- the end of the unbearable heat and humidity, the changing of the colors, the smell of the earth on a rainy day or those sunny days when you kick through piles of leaves and you are reminded of childhood, back when you jumped head first into towering piles, newly raked by mom and dad (and then got yelled at)… or maybe it’s simply the knowledge that soon the bitter Midwestern winter will begin and last, undoubtedly, for the next six months. This knowledge always makes it so that I treasure every last autumn moment.

When I was younger fall meant camping. Hiking through Starved Rock. Campfires. Girl Scout sleepovers where we froze to death at night but loved every minute of it- especially the chocolate chip campfire pancakes the next morning. I have always looked forward to sharing these same experiences with my kids- though I am a bit impatient waiting for them to get old enough. I can only assume that a one year old does more eating of nature than appreciating it. As it is, at four my son is already a huge fan of campfires (and S’mores) and of jumping in leaf piles.

And so I waited through the summer for the fall, so that I could begin enjoying my favorite time of year. But fall arrived in a rather wet and chilly fashion this year and though I do love the smell of rain in the fall, I would prefer it not occur every day. It’s hard to go walking and enjoy the changing of colors when you are damp and shivering.

And yet, at heart I am an optimist. And even more so an artist. And so despite the dreary pitch that this season has taken, I still find it hard to deny its beauty. Now that I commute for two hours of my day five days a week, I see a lot more of the Midwestern countryside than I ever did before and I notice some of the subtleties that I never did while rushing through all those times before. It’s hard to miss the intensity of the changing leaves- when I lived on the border of Northern Illinois, the autumn colors would literally take my breath away. My college campus was wooded and I loved wandering around taking it all in- though I am not an overly religious person (at least not in the sense of organized religion), in those moments I always felt as if I was particularly close with God. There was an overwhelming sense of peace and calm that came simply from closing my eyes and breathing it all in, listening to the rustling leaves and feeling the cool breeze on my skin. Those moments where the difficulties of grown up life could be shut out and replaced with the simple joys of nature.

But beyond the changing of the leaves, there is so much more to be seen. More than I had ever believed. There is a point in my commute each day when I have to choose which way to go home. My exit has been closed for well over a month now (I will not ruin this entry with my tirade regarding that) and so I have to choose between two alternate routes, both of which put me driving through more countryside than my normal 98% interstate way (and take a good 10 minutes longer- but again, stopping before tirade begins). And though the routes do take longer, they also force me to drive a bit slower and look around- and every single day I have wished for my camera.

On one particular drive it had been raining most of the day, but stopped shortly before I began my commute. The sun was just coming out again and I came up over the crest of a hill to see the fields, newly cut, shimmering a bright gold in the sunlight- against the backdrop of a sky so deep stormy blue that the contrast of the two was near perfect.

Yet another drive revealed to me a picture perfect little white farmhouse- faded but beautiful in its simplicity, with one of those massive old white pine trees that seem to show up occasionally along the central Illinois countryside. It all seemed so serene. Such a perfect little escape from the bustle of normal city life; the sort of place I have always dreamed of buying for my own.

And then there are the tiny details. The way the leaves on the very tips of the trees seem to hang on the longest, standing out in such stark contrast to the bare branches leading out to them. The way the sky manages to look different each morning as the sun rises- some days the colors are brash and dramatic, others are more subtle in their beauty. The clouds that form on both clear days and stormy, reminding me of all the times I sat as a child picking out the figures hidden within them and creating stories. And if you stop and look at all the life around you, fading slowly and folding itself up for the winter, you can see the beauty really is in the details.

I like to think that I am not the only one who often finds themselves caught off guard by the beauty of all that is around us. That I am not the only one lost in dreamstate while staring at the sky. It does, at times, cause a lack of focus on my part- but often I think our lives are far too fast paced and focused once we grow up anyway and it is truly a loss when we move so fast that we miss the details, big or small, subtle or brash, that mother nature throws our way in any season.

On a side note, I have a far more difficult time remaining so inspired by winter… especially by about month four.