When the traffic thinned out, I pulled into the lane with no traffic in sight and quickly tried to capture the stunning scene of fall foliage before me.
Forget hikes, even just driving around the beauty of Denver has had me fall-foliage mesmerized.
I was about to be immersed in capturing the tunnel of gold before me as the boughs of the trees bent toward each other, when a gentleman signaled my attention from behind, asking how he could be of help.
Ohhh. What a good person! My car was pulled over on the road, so naturally he had assumed I was in need of help.
I thanked him profusely and then meekly explained I was just struck by the fall foliage beauty and just had to pull over to capture it . . .
“You betcha!” he exclaimed. “I do that too and I just love the fall. If you head on over to Central Park (Denver) they have the best maple trees there!”
We smiled at our shared love of fall foliage and each went our separate ways.
So I’m not the only foliage nut, I thought to myself.
Later that evening I was relaying the story to a friend on the East Coast, a retired physics professor well into his eighties.
“So, did you get the picture?” he asked. “Sure,” I replied. “And many more in the last couple of weeks.”
I could behold the changing of the colors of the fiery burnt colored leaves for hours . . .
“Do send them! It’s so beautiful, I love the changing of the leaves too!”
Immediately, as we were still in conversation on the phone, I proudly sent him my absolutely gorgeous pictures of my hometown Denver draped in blazing sunset colors of copper, gold, wine and flaming orange.
“Yeah they’re nice.” Nice? I thought. They’re incredible!
“But nothing in terms of intensity of color compared to what we have here” he continued. Wait a second, I’m gonna send you some amazing pictures from here. We have all the colors here, golds, yellows, browns, greens, even turquoise, blue . . . The vegetation is very tight here, so many trees close together, so it’s a remarkable blur and all the colors are there together,” he went on.
The next thing I know, I am in receipt of the most electrifyingly vivid fall foliage landscapes on my phone.
Spectacular!
“Yup, one day the trees are green here, and then boom, there’s a cold night, and the next thing you know, it’s the glorious fall foliage. It’s not gradual here,” he says. “Then it’s the swinging temperatures of warm-cold-warm-cold, and the colors just keep getting more and more vivid.”
A soft kind of competition was developing as we each sang the praises of our respective home state’s fall magic.
The East Coast is famous for its magnificent fall foliage season, its kaleidoscopic show of nature. But here’s the thing. Colorado’s fall foliage is pretty exquisite too. Those magically delicate Aspen groves that quiver and tremble at the slightest breeze, creating the famous shimmering Aspen whisper. And Denver’s most perfect climate and weather and blue skies, where it feels like its golden hour all day long here in the autumn. And where the mosaic of rich and warm deep wines and reds, coppers and golds, stand out against Denver’s bluebird sky.
Did you know Aspens are among some of the largest organisms on earth? Their roots underground are all interconnected, creating a single organism?
This is the reason their color transforms at the same time, bringing us that feel of golden flecked air and fluttering golden forests and views, sometimes for miles at a time.
And those maple trees. My goodness. The canopy of copper and scarlet as the leaves cascade to the ground, creating the most beautiful carpet of dry leaves.
Like collecting seashells in the summer on the beach, I love collecting stunning fall leaves, be they vivid in color or muted earth tones. Some years I assemble them into a collage of sorts. This year, I have them stacked one above the other. They’ve already dried out. But I took such pleasure in finding them.
There is just something so nostalgic, cozy and comforting about this season filled with a nip in the air, and the beauty, and also the auditory joy of hearing the crunch of the leaves underfoot.
Granted, it speaks of a farewell to summer scorchers and of winter’s approach, which can either mean joy or dread, depending on each person’s feeling about the cold season.
Maybe it’s an elusive return to childhood of sorts. The annual fresh school supplies. The anticipation of the beginning of a new school year, and entering a new, higher grade as we grew up.
Somehow, even if vague, there is also something of a melancholy in the air as the trees shed their leaves. It’s a tangible expression that speaks to the passage of time.
The crunching carpets of leaves that blaze all around us, beckon toward something more internal: perhaps we shed something of ourselves, too, as we begin retreating indoors. I curl up with more books and always read twice as much in this season than I ever do in the summer.
The lengthening evenings and longer starry nights begin. The slow simmering soups that take patience, versus the quick blended smoothies that are a cinch and ready in a matter of mere minutes.
A certain slower vibe to the days and nights begins to take hold. The temperatures feel perfect, not cold and not hot. If it does get a bit chilly, the cold comes in as more of a caress than a full blown blast of cold air. There’s a certain harmony in not needing any air conditioning or heaters yet, but just enjoying the contentment of perfect sunshine filled air.
Meanwhile, the trees and colors around us just keep getting dreamier and dreamier, especially as those special autumn sunbeams peak through the foliage, like lamps lighting the leaves aglow, as they drink the sunshine in.
The pumpkins scattered and curated throughout the neighborhood are adorable. I saw an actual ice blue painted cinderella style pumpkin carriage in one of the yards. And many other artistically creative pumpkin transformations.
Back when I was on the East Coast, apple picking was practically an autumn ritual. Only once did I go with friends to an autumn kind of festival, replete with a pumpkin patch and corn maze. Where else but in Sleepy Hollow.
This season feels like we’re on the cusp of something, even if we can’t visually see it. There’s a sense of the trees preparing to sleep — in order to bloom again.
It’s that time of year now when it’s goodbye to another magical September and October autumn, as the mornings become wreathed in distant fog. When the last of the harvest is still in abundance, yet the shift at the farmers markets overflow is subtly perceptible.
As the leaves are rustling, nature is transforming around us; warmer spices to cook with soft sweaters to wrap up in and knit socks to keep us warm are this season’s coming companions.
I will savor the last of this picturesque sunset-infused season that feels like I am walking — or driving — through a painting.
© IJN 2025
