Simply Delicious

If I was an artist I would paint fall and never tire of it.
If I was a photographer I would show you what I see.
If I was a poet I would place in immortal prose the magic in these moments.

This season literally takes my breath away.
The color combinations are thrilling. I saw a wisp of creamy lemon leaves hanging on a trunk of dark grey and charcoal today. If I had a nursery I would paint it so. The two red trees in the midst of Acacia park are etherial. I have never seen such shades of burnt ambers and ocher's, mixed with auburn and brick red. Stunning in the truest definition of the word.

I walk on my daily journey to and from bus stops in a state of literal exhilaration over the decay that dazzles my optical receptors. There is a fox that meets me on this journey. He lives in a cul-de-sac and it is as if he knows when I am coming. His red coat pops as the background behind him is turning a phenomenal shade of yellow. He stares at me as if I am just as strange as I find him. I attempt to take in his cunning and mesmerizing state of being. This quiet stolen moment we have in the morning is filled with expectation and respect.

My current guilty pleasure is smunching, crunching and whisking piles of leaves as I walk. There is an exhilaration that builds inside as I briskly pass through the dropped and forgotten death, that days ago were adorning the tree above them. It causes a remembrance of being a child, and as such the little one inside me breaks free for a short time before I must lock her away for the very respectable job that I have.

Oh joy.
Freedom.
Smunching.
Eclectic display of the Glory of God.
I think I was made for this day.
I am alive in a way that I cannot describe.
I feel overpowered by awe and delight.

Simply delicious.