I thought I'd share something that I'd previously written but had never posted. It suits the season. BTW, this place really does exist as do most of my experiences as I've written.
AUTUMN SOLITUDE
It was a ripe autumn day. The air felt warm yet there was a touch of chill when it stirred restlessly through the tree tops. I was absorbed by the sound of the brittle crunching of newly fallen leaves under my feet as I walked on the secluded path through the timberland around the lake. My senses felt reborn. It was wonderful to experience life with every part of myself. To feel the breeze playfully tug my hair away from my face as it brought the distinct aroma of fall to my nose - that sharp scent of damp earth and the crisp bouquet of dry leaves from such a variety of trees mingling into a natural potpourri. It made me think that no perfume in the world could hope to capture this unique warmed spice aroma that the earth gave so freely. I took a moment to sit on a fallen log near the bank of the lake. A breeze caressed the surface of the water leaving a silvery trail of ripples in its wake. A chill raced along my spine so I pulled my jacket closer to my throat as the air’s cool fingers touched my skin. The beauty that spread out before my greedy eyes was breathtaking! I realized that I was witnessing something that no other person would ever see. Tomorrow there would be changes, subtle perhaps, but it would never again be the same as it was in that instant.
Slowly and deliberately, I surveyed the panorama of color before me. How could I ever consider trying to put what I saw into words? Did any language contain the syllables needed to describe such a vision? Nor could I conceive that the human hand could truly capture the brilliance and subtleties that nature mastered so effortlessly. The colors would have looked gaudy and inappropriate on a canvas but in nature, they blended to perfection. The sky was a deep azure topaz with small racing wisps of gleaming white that only served to intensify the depth of the brilliant hue. The trees and underbrush were a riot of color; from deep scarlet to tangerine, golden bronze to bright canary yellow and hues of color for which there are no names. The lake had no face of its own. It served only to reflect the fiery complexion of its surroundings. It was like an enormous mirror, calm and serene, no warmth to it’s depths but a fire alight upon its surface. I realized that I was holding my breath and I released it on a sigh.
I had brought my camera equipment in hopes of capturing just a piece of such a display. I set up my tripod, liking the old fashioned filters and 35 mm film for their richness in showing colors I ran through a roll in a matter of moments, trying to freeze for all time the image of splendor before me. I shot all angles - close up studies of a group of wild ducks serenely gliding upon the glass surface of the water and wide panoramic frames of the flamboyant fires dancing on and around the lake. I felt rapture blended with sadness as the eye of the camera imprisoned each scene on the film. Pictures could only capture a fraction of what assailed all of my senses. I sat again after putting my equipment away and drank more of the ambrosia of the day with all that I am.
After awhile I stood then set out to continue my wandering. My companions were the passing presence of the shedding white birch, rough pines, sugar maples, black walnut, mighty oak and those others whose names I couldn't remember and many I never knew, all at various stages of evolution. I saw in them the change and consistency of the shifting of time and seasons. I found solace and strength in their presence for there was a feeling of forever under those many branches. It was as if time began here with the first word spoken by God and because of that, time seemed to be moving at a much slower pace than in the rest of the world. Nature has a right to feel secure in the superiority of God’s creation over man’s making. Time means little to what is created by God and nature is constantly cleansing her face of the misguided attempts of man to make his mark on the world.
The ancient voices of the past whispered their secrets in my straining ears as their shadows flitted playfully behind the tree trunks. They blew kisses of faded glory to tangle in my hair as they danced in jubilation in the dappled sunlight around me, daring me to hear more than the obvious. I reveled in the bombardment of my senses and the clamor of so intense a silence. I now heard the multitude of whispered sounds around me. I heard the moaning of the heavy branches overhead as the tops of the trees swayed sensually. The sound of the wind singing through the pine needles and barren limbs made a hushed and soothing song. The swaying loosened the dry leaves and needles so that they fell like rain on and around me. The ground was covered by a lush carpet of golden pine needles and russet leaves. I heard the cry of birds calling others of their kind, anxious to be off to those warm southern surroundings. I heard the small forest creatures scurrying to and fro, gathering their stores for the encroaching winter.
As the afternoon wore on the temperature began to rise. I removed my jacket, tying it securely about my hips. I always enjoy those unexpected Indian summer days. They were like God’s gift to those who were willing to take the time to enjoy and savor life’s bounty. The warmth of the sun was brought to me on a breeze. It caressed my exposed flesh like a lover’s touch; I felt the sensation quiver throughout my body. I spent the afternoon in quiet solitude with my surroundings, renewing a treasured friendship. It was peaceful and calm, like a loved and worn hand-made quilt that gave not only warmth but also the comfort of familiarity. I took out my simple lunch as I sat upon the thick layers of fragrant leaves and pine needles beneath the wide bowl of sun and sky. Even the few foodstuffs I had thrown into my bag seemed to echo the sensations of the day. A thermos of strong black English tea lightly sweetened with golden raw honey that spread warmth through my body inside in concert with the warmth the sun bestowed on my skin from without. A chunk of mellow colby cheese that blended to perfection with the two slices of sourdough bread generously spread with herbed sweet butter, to cleanse the palate, a crisp, tree fresh scarlet and gold apple that was both tart and sweet like the autumn breeze. As I ate I sat in thought. It was a day for delving into me, acknowledging myself from the interior as well as from the exterior.
I enjoy my own company on occasion and I horde those precious hours to myself like priceless jewels, unwilling to share even the smallest details of my experience with those who would ask. These times belong to me alone and I won’t have them lessened by those who will not or can not understand the pleasures I take in them. I have never felt that I existed on quite the same plain as the others that surround me. I am one of them but something always makes me feel that I will always be apart from them. Sometimes that thought brings sadness and frustration but there are many other times that I glorify in those aspects that set me apart. I have but found only a minute few who resonate with my on this outer realm. They do exist though and it is with those who I am closest, both emotionally and spiritually bound. Again though, they are a rare collection. That is why, when I need to be just myself, accepting of myself without the social masks life imposes among most others we deal with daily, I indulge in my own company in places that are special to me alone. I ponder life as I will during these times or I simply enjoy not thinking but feeling the sensations of the textures that the world has to offer. I prefer those that are offered by nature for the most part because they make no demands for reciprocation, they are just simply there for the taking. The warmth of a spring shower as the rain runs sensuously in tiny rivulets over my skin. I enjoy mentally trying to track each drop as it makes its way downward. Or the intensity and raw power of a summer storm that draws me into its climactic throws and leaves me sated and in awe at its tremendous strength. It’s not likely that one could express that an intense storm can cause an equally intense physical response to another person without the other having serious reservations about the first. So I keep a small piece of myself to myself; I am content to keep it that way. These are just a few of my pondering as I spend a glorious day in a place where I feel I can truly belong without question.
As the afternoon turns to evening I realize just how much natural color is washed away by the intrusive city lights. It was still fairly early in the season but night seemed to roll in like the inevitable flow of high tide, gently washing the shore of the sky with a blaze of phosphorescent hues. I sat in a clearing at the top of the hill where I’d parked and watched one of nature’s most moving spectacles. The valley below me flared into an intensity that paled in comparison with the sky above. The sun was a fiery ball of orange as is sank lower into the soft gray mist of the horizon. Above the hazy end of the world the heavens were filled with the colors of a distorted rainbow. Above the gray mist where the sun rested the sky was a deep mauve streaked by fine fingers of gold. Pink subtly blended into the palest yellows and there was just a hint of green before it washed into lavender, then into regal violet. The midnight blue tide of night slowly seeped into the rainbow and darkened each hue until there seemed to be a battle in the sky. The sun was gone but in its place was the encroaching tide that struggled to vanquish the scarlet left to proclaim the evidence of its passing. I watched in amazement as the sky seemed to burn with an ever widening wall of fire. The tops of the trees stood like lacy naked fingers of ebony silhouette against the fury of the sky. I felt tears fill my eyes and run down into the corners of my mouth. I tasted the sweet salt of them as my eyes beheld something that could be called nothing less than miraculous. The crimson gradually turned to a luxurious sable that clung arduously to the horizon like a lover that was sated yet still greedy for the warm touch of her lover’s body as she drifts off to sleep.
Night surrounded me in its tide where I willingly let my senses drown in it. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds that belonged only to the night. The gentle rustling of the leaves as the breeze sang its sultry song of persuasion, the quiet symphony of the nocturnal creatures as they welcomed their time of activity. I slowly opened my eyes and filled my lungs with the coolness in the air. The perfume was lighter now but even more intoxicating than it had been in the heat of the day. I felt drunk with it; my body tingled and vibrated to the sounds that encompassed me. I closed my eyes again, needing to intensify the sensation that raced through me as it filled the well inside me with a sweet utter abandon. I raised my face to the night as if awaiting it to caress my over stimulated flesh with gentle fingers and in a sense, it did. An explosion of moist wind blasted my face and I felt my hair being whipped behind me with the intensity of a lover’s urgent need. It punished the warm flesh of my exposed throat and sent a chill of anticipation racing to my very depths. My skin rose in goose flesh over my entire body as I accepted the persistence of the night. In my mind it had become a living thing. Again I opened my eyes and the night stared back at me with eyes of stars. The night’s eyes captured me in their embrace and my emotions swung in a dizzying spiral into the face of the twilight. My mind and body reeled with the unexpected simple sensuality of what I had always taken for granted - that nature was a very powerful force and very much a part of me. Ever so slowly my heart ceased to pound so fiercely and my breath returned to a quiet whisper. The magic slipped away, leaving just a trace of lingering star dust in the clear, dark night. I scanned the sky, trying to bring my senses back to some mode of reality. I knew it was time to return home and leave this day and night to its place in my dreams. I knew that there would be other times in my life that I would repeat the experience but each would be uniquely different yet equally as pleasurable. So sadly, I said goodbye to that perfect experience. On the journey home, with the night as escort, I anticipated my next taste of nature. Then I remembered I would always have the echo of the day in the pictures I had taken. I was elated because I felt that I had, in some way, managed to steal a piece away from that ever rushing river of time.
