These days her shoes had no grip. The sidewalk was always wet and the threat of rain loomed in the evenings. Mornings were dim and cold. Walks to the bus stop were slow. Edie watched as her breath smoked and rose above her. September was ending.
It was the strangest autumn for time out of mind. The trees remained clothed in green until the middle of October and then all of a sudden were a riot of colour. It was as if the season jumped into the park instead of fading in as it usually would, and was all the more magnificent for doing so. Upon the newly softened mud were the acorns - from green to pale brown, none yet the rich hue of children's story books. The air was cooler with a tincture of earthiness - just a hint that brought to mind the cozy evenings and warm soups to come.
A single golden leaf pirouetted down an invisible spiral of breeze, spinning through the air as it let itself be carried down. It shook slightly, as if it could have been whisked away any second by the grip of an icy wind, but it kept floating down the twirling course. It blew past my face and landed lightly on the ground, the shiny, vibrant colour standing out against the ambers and bronzes beneath it. It was so delicate, I wanted to reach down and pick it up and hold it close to my heart, smoothing out any creases, but something told me that it belonged there, this corpse of what was once summer.
Caramel leaves tumbled to life by brisk autumnal notes that roused them from slumber, requesting a last wistful dance before a wintry embrace would claim them.
Rachel trotted through skeletal trees, their branches so bare that she could have counted the leaves on each and every one as she passed by. The trees were skirted by pools of autumn gold and rust coloured leaves. When the wind blew the pools animated. Leaves took to the air in an elegant dance, pirouetting around the tree trunks to their own orchestral rustling. When the wind calmed, the dance ended and the leaves landed to form new pools that looked identical to the ones they were in before they started to frolic.
As the days wane, the nights close in and the trees don their vibrant hues, a chill creeps into the air. Not the bite of wintry blusters, but just a nip to let us know a new season is at hand. The wide avenue is lit by the first rays of the day, shining through a thin layer of grey cloud like a stain glass window. No more are the trees their virescent hues of spring and summer, but are scarlets and gold. In just a few weeks they will stand naked in the frozen air, bereft of their gaiety. Already the usual grey of the concrete sidewalk is adorned with their transient beauty. As I walk to the bus stop in my black woollen coat, I deliberately tread on each one to hear the crunch. Just ahead a leaf tumbles from it's weary branch, it twists and rocks as it falls through the almost still air. I pause to listen for the sound it makes as it joins it's brethren on the ground, but it is lost in the drone of the traffic.
