The Inner Fall Foliage

On still September mornings, fog shrouds New Hampshire river valleys. Leaves fall with an audiable cascade. Rose pink dawn with frost on the grass promises a bright aster-blue afternoon when children may rake-up leaves for the sheer joy of jumping and rolling among them. Autumn afternoons quickly fade as chilly nights bring mingled scents of wood smoke and candle-singed jack-o-lanterns.
Crisp apples, dry corn stalks and falling leaves are the essences of autumn, capable of conjuring up childhood memories. Like the sound of unseen wild geese migrating south overhead, the subtle psychological effects may catch you by surprise.
Fall foliage tourism is big business. New England tourism officials develop peak foliage forcast maps. But foliage is more than an economic opportunity. It's a mood, a singular seasonal emotion conveyed by seemingly inanimate trees. I's even more spectacular than a natural phenomenon. It's a spiritual phenomenon. Changing hues of neighborhood trees provide an irresistible metaphor for life, death and renewal. Falling leaves work on your soul.
To walk under blazing red maples or kick through fallen leaves resets an ancient inner clock. All too soon, a wind-driven rainstorm will shred the colorful tapestry, stripping shadetrees to their bare naked limbs.
Autumn glory in New England is always fleeting, heartbreaking and nostalgic. The flurries of rustling leaves soon give way to less colorful flurries- cold and white.