Fall in Oregon whispers of luxury – the piling on of soft, cozy layers, whether they be clothes or blankets or boots and scarves. The weather seems to champion the introvert in me – gather up, hunker down. Me in my natural emotional state.
But I also love fall for the final trumpet peal it sends across the landscape. A defiant firework of colors – here they are yellow, red, brown, orange, even purple – before crushing and crumbling to the ground. The trees seem to say “You only thought you knew me. Watch what I can do now.”
I cheer the trees here like they are celebrities, praise them like they are my own children. “You are beautiful! Oh, look at you!”
The bookend to spring, fall in Oregon teems with life as critters prepare for winter and the drama of decay rivals the beauty of discovery. The two seasons unexpectedly mirror each other in activity and impact.
Words cannot adequately express what the change of seasons here does to my heart. Fills it, yes, but so much more. And fall is the time I love the most. I was made for fall.