Wednesday, October 7, 2009
A discovery... I am able to bring my computer out to the deck and connect to the internet.
So I am writing as fast as I can to record my impression of the sound of the wind through the branches and the golden leaves falling this way and that in their wayward descent. I am amazed by my kids who can play piano without ever looking at the keys, but I find I can type the same way. I am sitting facing the Southwest and as the sun shines toward my face edging out from behind some still green leaves, it lights the bits of pollen that float or skitter through the air across the field. Tree fluff actually rises rather than falls with the wind, like glittering dust motes or insects. I wish I could capture the way the seeds and leaves and branches move in a picture or with a video camera but mere media cannot contain it, a big screen TV could not imitate it, words can barely explain it. Only being out with the rushing sound of the leaves and the brace of the the air and the glint and warmth of the sun. There's a desire to run and catch the leaves to try to stop and hold this moment before it blows away into the cold bleak winter.