Photo credit: seasonal-aesthetic
October 14, 2017. The day we ran away to Shenandoah National Park because I wanted to see the leaves change. The day we sat at the overlook we always go to and as the sun lowered it set the mountains on fire and turned the air to an orange glow around us, I turned and looked at him and for the first time thought “I love him.” While it would take the next several months to process and admit that, I will always remember that it was that day, that moment, that mountain, Rockytop Overlook.
For these beings, fall is ever the normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth….Such are the autumn people.
i am all about gray foggy mornings in late autumn when there’s a chill and a shiver in my body. mornings that call for large sweaters and rain boots. standing in the woods with pine and rain and smoke in the air. or standing at the edge of the ocean with salt in your mouth and the wind in your hair. the feeling of being both lost and found at the same time. the promise of returning home in your hands. a lick of winter at your heels.
