after august has heavily made its way and september spends nearly all its time in summer, there is a moment before autumn starts where i’ve missed spring and summer so much that i don’t want to welcome the season and october. the light disappears; the trees will lose their leaves to remain barren for months; the wind stings in the nose and breath appears like a dream. it’s the subsequent season that keeps me from a freefall into fall.

but then on my drive to work in the morning, just this past couple weeks, when i am still sleepy and thinking about nothing, rotely driving in the barely there morning light, green started to drain in force from the leaves. there is a stand of trees in a small dip in a backroad—i hesitate to call it valley—with one of the best displays i have seen. yellows, oranges, reds, ethereal orangey yellows that blur the eyes and create a watercolor painting. strong greens still stand out, giving the contrast my eyes need so badly, the thought that this will be gradual.

it will be over too soon, of course. the season is short in our state, and shorter the farther north you go. the leaves will fall or shrivel and fall or turn brown and shrivel and fall, and the stark darkness of branches will stand out from a grey sky that’s so common in november, or else cloaked in darkness to hibernate.

until that point, during which i am irritated by axial tilt, i will enjoy the pockets of delight on my drives, noticing the transitions and hoard the moment.