There is nothing like the colors of fall, although winter is beautiful in Georgia when the occasional snow or ice storm makes an appearance.
Waking from sleep to find life bathed in that frosty glow of a clear, blue day is only out shined by the jubilant chorus of neighborhood children assessing the sledable quality of one hill after another and weighing that against the irritability of one neighbor vs. the next. Doorbells are run early, and my children, at least, are dressed in layers of footed pajamas, sweat suits, jackets and plastic bags inside shoes and mittens, for no one here owns appropriate winter gear. Schools and roads shut down, the inconvenience of the weather is sated by a lunch of white bread and milk.
The winter majesty fades with the passing sun; the fall colors are fleeting as well, yes, but they're onset is so subtle, you wonder how you missed it when their brilliance becomes evident. Snow is beautiful in it's pristine quality, but the splendor of the myriad colors of fall is surpassing sweet.
We pulled into the driveway this morning and the girl said, "Mommy! The tree is on fire." The boy echoed my earlier sentiments when he asked, "Wow, when did that happen?"
The rest of the trees in the neighborhood haven't changed yet. The two trees in our front yard are flanked by the trailing ends of lush greenery, but the contrast between the green and red is inspiring.
The morning comes early. Sweet gardening dreams.
June 17, 2013 - Plum Disappointed
1 day ago