In a few weeks we will all sit down to a feast for the belly. Right now, however, I'm enjoying a feast for the eyes. As I drive in and out of my neighborhood, I'm overwhelmed with the rich colors and the stunning beauty of each tree. Across the street there is a lovely orange and green specimen. The fallen leaves on the lawn are like an orange snow. Next door, the tree is vibrant red with nearly black branches and trunk peeking through in contrast.
All the street-facing windows offer this kind of view and every time I pass one, it's a tiny bit overwhelming. I'm stunned by the beauty, but saddened by it's impermanence. At the same time, I realize it's fleeting nature is what makes it such a treat.
So, for now, I will feast on the color of the leaves in our neighborhood, like a Thanksgiving meal for my eyes. I will stuff myself with beauty, I will relish the singularity of each tree and stand in awe of the vast smorgasbord of offerings all around me. I will rest, then come back for seconds and thirds. I will not pass this buffet without enjoying.
Because soon there will be nothing but left-overs piled on the ground with bare branches above. The remains will turn brown and moldy and will finally be swept to the curb and removed. And it will be a long, cold winter until the trees bring forth their feast once more.