What is the best time of year? Ask four people, you’ll likely get four different answers. For that matter, ask me, four different times of the year, you may get four different answers. These photos are my answer for this time of year.
The seasons have colors. The greys, whites, and blacks of winter; spring whirls into a kaleidoscope of flowers; in summer the browns of fields and branches explode into green; and in fall, the summer greens lose their inhibitions and party. Yellows, golds, and reds bust out and have one last hurrah before the cycle begins again.
Fall’s colors can be fickle. Not all parties leave a smile on your face, but this year – wow!
Some trees are just party animals. They think spending the year green is too boring.
And lest you think that this big show is intended solely for a certain group of primates with illusions of primacy, remember all the other creatures with a front row seat.
The beauty of fall is not limited to its colors. Patterns frame the hues, creating little art galleries, hidden away, awaiting their next customer.
Even the heavens join in. Crisp fall days with clear blue skies and the scent of falling leaves provide the perfect backdrop for a neighborhood walk.
Some plants are introverts. At heart, they may want to go out in a red blaze of glory with all the other partiers, but their inner nature never lets them get past yellow. This only adds to the appeal of the season; the mix of greens, yellows, golds, and reds provides a more spectacular tapestry.
It’s not just color. Light filtering through the leaves adds a warmth to the day that has nothing to do with heat. This makes it all the nicer to share a fall walk with a friend.
Gold and blue. Peanut butter and jelly. Shoes and socks. Some things just go together.
Others want to be the star of the show. Center stage, like a diva with an aria or a Shakespearian actor with a soliloquy, they burst out with enough display to catch the eye of even the cheap seats.
But it’s the package: the melody of colors, the glow of light, the smell of the air, the shuffling of feet through piled leaves on crisp sunny days that makes fall call out, “it’s me, it’s me, I’m the best time of year!”