From NPR: Why the leaves fall from the trees.
For my money, this October just past was one of the most beautiful Octobers I can recall. In my corner of Massachusetts, we had such a perfect blend of warm sun-filled days, raw rainy ones, and even one or two reminders of the winter headed our way. I could never be happy in a place where it’s always sunny and warm; I need that mix of weather, and the appeal of October to me is its unpredictability. November swoops in on us, steals the leaves, and blankets us in darkness like a pall, and so we get thirty-one days to linger in the last of golden sunsets and crisp breezes, but also return to the joys of wrapping up in a blanket in a favorite chair, before the need to wear that blanket just to keep your body temperature normal becomes a requirement.
The turning of the leaves this year seemed to linger forever and build to a crescendo of color to rival any Fourth of July fireworks. Some years we needed to get in the car and drive north or west to see the displays, but I can honestly say that this year I never needed to leave town to see all the foliage I wanted. And then Halloween brought with it a night of gales so that yesterday morning the show was mostly over. As that NPR story says, there’s a reason they call it “Fall”, and November is payback time for all that beauty. The convergence of harsh, dark, barren November and the celebration of the Puritans can be no mistake. Which is not to say that November is without its charms, because once in a while a thoroughly October day sneaks in among the grey skies, bare branches, and endless raking. But October is almost as decadent as the lushest, greenest days of May; it revels not in its abundance and fertility but in the savoring of each element of the natural world, finally cherishing them as they most deserve, extracting one last, bittersweet farewell kiss.
Despite our reputation, New England no longer suffers the harshest winters, the serest summers, the biblically terrific storms. Those distinctions now belong to other places in our country, and we who occupy this small corner get to see it happen elsewhere through the endless fascination we all have with weather on television. The high country of the Rockies has already started its winter season for the year, while Florida and the Gulf Coast escaped their annual parade of hurricanes. California tries to incorporate a little of every sort of foul weather, and usually does so admirably. Meanwhile, we sit and compare every six-inch snowfall with the Blizzard of ’78 and wait for spring and remember what a lovely October we had.
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