She is five pounds of puppy, wriggling and running around my feet. Together we walk in the slow shade of evening. She shuffles back and forth, around my feet, from one side of the road to the other. We are alone in my long driveway as the late afternoon sun sinks behind the trees, and day gives way to dusk.
The woods around the house are still, quiet after the weekend storm that brought down acorns, leaves in a multitude of colors, and lots of rain. You can feel the season turning in the crisp air and hear it in the crunch of leaves and gravel under my feet. The dogs down the road bark, and Sera perks up to listen.
This season of brief but brilliant beauty is stunning where I live. The green ferns of summer have given way to a beautiful shade of burnt umber. Colors are chasing the green away down the drive, with yellow, red, gold, and brown overtaking the world. The pines will hold their green over the winter, by February the landscape will be dark and gray with dirty snow and all signs of life hidden under the cloak of winter.
In this brief moment of time, I drink in the color because I know I will long for it in the dark winter. Tonight, there are days, weeks even, of vibrant fall color ahead. I don’t want to miss it. So, I walk slowly, almost reverently. In this moment of my life, it is this quiet beauty that captures my attention. The pace of my life has given way to a slow waltz and I will sway and hum along to a familiar tune. It’s been a while since I enjoyed the turning season, but tonight I surely do.
This is part of the Write 31 Days challenge. Click here to follow along.