One of the things I miss about New York City and love coming back to is fall foliage.
The emergence of that crisp autumn air, the shift to sipping warmer drinks and apple cider, roasting butternuts, making more soup, and bringing out the wardrobe of cozy gold and burgundy colored sweaters to wrap yourself in — it is always a pleasure.
But in New York it feels even nicer.
Of all the places I have ever lived, New York City is the most colorful.
Don’t get me wrong, most places have almost nothing on the twinkling golden Aspen leaves of our Colorado. But fall in New York is one of New York’s finest features, not to be missed.
Many an autumn I have worked my schedule so that I am in New York City during this colorful season. A drive along the Hudson holds a special place in my heart.
This year I came in with my usual anticipation for the glorious color that is fall — the burnt reds, yellows, oranges and even pinks. Then there are those leaves whose colors bleed into one another, and the swirled leaves become unique color creations all their own, sometimes becoming a canopy or tunnel of splendid new colors to walk through.
There is always that slight tension; you want to make sure to make it before the leaves are gone. One day. One brutal windstorm. And the trees could all be bald and naked bare, just like that.
It’s not an organized, staggered process in which the color slowly fade, tree by tree, in succession. It’s a fragile thing, so you have to make sure to see your fall foliage leaves.
It is kind of strange to be waiting for the fall foliage because essentially it is waiting for the leaves to die. After it’s all over, the tree wounds and leaf scars stand exposed, with nothing left to lick their wounds. Fall a death expressed in color.
Like all seasons, fall is of course simply a process that is part of nature. Fall is the blaze of color that signals the trees’ quiet rest for the next few months of winter, in preparation for the life of the trees to bloom once again.
So I made the Autumn Fall Foliage Pilgrimage this year. And guess what? It seems I have come too early.
Not too late. But too early!
Aside from the fact that this is a first for me on so many levels — let’s say being punctual doesn’t come naturally to me — it made me think about timing.
Coming late is something we think of often as coming too late — as a missed opportunity. But sometimes coming too early and needing to wait for something is a challenge, too.
Whether it’s waiting for the colors of the leaves to change or something else more significant in our lives, sometimes, and some during seasons, we simply must be patient, and wait.
Copyright © 2013 by the Intermountain Jewish News
