Fall is Splendiferous!

I've lived in the Peace country for more than 30 years, and yet I never tire of the glories of fall. The air has a crispness to it that heralds the coming winter, but it's invigorating, and for sure, it wakes me up during an early morning walk to work.

There is a certain sadness to the colour of the leaves. The yellow is bright in the sun, but on a cloudy day, it dims to a pale yellow that soon turns into a grubby brown once it's on the ground. When the wind has finally whipped all the leaves off the trees, there is a sameness to the branches, brownish-gray against the hills and sky.

I still miss the riot of reds and yellows and oranges and browns on the huge maple trees in Montreal, where I grew up. I'd like to go back, maybe even a bit farther south, perhaps to Vermont, in the autumn, and once again, shimmer in those colours, but for now, I'll have to content myself with yellow . . . brown . . . down!

There is nothing finer than an autumn walk through the woods or the park with kids on their bikes or in the stroller. The leaves crunch and rustle under our feet, and overhead, the bare branches of the trembling aspens click and clack on one another, faint applause for the annual Show of Leaves.

I cherish the memories of these days.