Who said it doesn’t snow in
Every fall, millions of billions of leaves float gently on air waves , like wannabe flakes, clothe the ground, multicolored wonder rugs, to pave the way for the swan song of the year.
It’s a magical time. I love when I come home and, like a whisper, the leaves are falling in front of my face, right before I open the door, as if there is yet one more thing they want to tell me before it’s all done, and over. I always greet them with a pause and a smile. I acknowledge each and every one that comes in my path. With patience and utter awareness. Almost respect. I am sure they know I know what they mean!
When I moved to the States, I remember my dad’s first reaction to the news. I was waiting, terrified, with stopped breath, to see if he’s going to kill me, burn my passport, or otherwise keep me in a basement we didn’t have, to sober up from my dreams … His answer was: “Good. You’re moving to the States. At least that’s a beautiful country. You’ll never run out of things to see”. And he shrugged and went about his day.
How can one forget that?!
And he was right. At least, here in
All you have to do is fill up the tank, program the GPS or print your map, and head out.
To sum up my fall, I tried to capture some of these wonders and beauties of our land in the following pictures, and may they now speak:
- 1 or
Enjoy the trails and the leaf snow and the whispers!