Source – saltwire.com
-“…I have been making it my business to get outside during the last weeks of October, and what I have seen makes it impossible for me to accept that there exists a place more pleasing to the senses — more apt to make a person snap out of a somnambulant state, punch a fist into the air and holler “yes, yes, there are still wonders in this world” — than this one”
The Blaze of Autumn Leaves is Nova Scotia at its Finest – By John DeMont
I cannot back up this statement with empirical fact since I have not seen much of the world. As far as I know, no single, unbiased, credible body has done a thorough ranking of the most beautiful places on the planet to see exactly where Nova Scotia stands.
All I can say is that I have been making it my business to get outside during the last weeks of October, and what I have seen makes it impossible for me to accept that there exists a place more pleasing to the senses — more apt to make a person snap out of a somnambulant state, punch a fist into the air and holler “yes, yes, there are still wonders in this world” — than this one.
So, I choose not to. The great show, the alchemy that occurs in autumn when the temperature starts to drop and trees stop making chlorophyll, is underway. Let us bow down once more to give thanks.
The turning of the leaves, the fall colours, is spectacular enough that, even with COVID upon us, tourists arrive by the carload like pilgrims bent on glimpsing some awe-inspiring religious relic.about:blank
I do not blame them one bit.
Painters strive and fail to replicate the deep, burnished yellows, oranges and reds that are everywhere. The scale — kilometre after kilometre, in highlands and valleys, towns and cities, on hilltops and in backyards — is beyond compare.
That it happens beyond the control of man makes the phenomenon one of the wonders of the world.
Yet, it isn’t just trees and leaves. October is the fall harvest, a time of life and abundance in this province.
What is more, a single maple leaf doesn’t have to change for the vistas of the Minas Basin, the Annapolis Valley, the LaHave River, the flatlands of Chignecto, and virtually all of Cape Breton to make the spirit soar.
Here, as well, anyone can witness this spectacle in a distinctive place, which is old by the standards of North America, while breathing air that is clean and fresh.about:blank
I inhaled it Tuesday strolling on a trail around Halifax’s Long Lake.
I knew that weather had changed, even if some people were wearing shorts, as if to convince themselves that the heat of summer still lingered, and the bleakness of winter was somewhere off on the horizon.
Fallen leaves had already begun to blanket the paths. Any day now the tree branches will be empty, because after they blaze for just a few short days, the leaves die.
I understood that just like the strollers, joggers and power walkers, the dog owners, the parents holding the hands of toddlers, and grand-parents pushing strollers, all of us knowing full well that time is of the essence if we hope to experience the magic.
That evanescent quality gives autumn a weight that is nothing like the lightness of summer or the ponderousness of winter.
Autumn is ephemeral, here today and gone tomorrow. It is as fleeting as a leaf that one day is green and alive, and the next a withered thing underfoot.
That is why poets write about the melancholy flavour of the season and Johnny Mercer, in a song that never fails to move me, spoke of how the “autumn leaves of red and gold” remind him of a lover’s “sunburned kisses … the sun-burned hands I used to hold.”
It is, therefore, a reminder of what we already understand: that life is short, and we know how it ends, but its brevity makes it all the more beautiful.
More than that it renews itself, like the leaves just starting to float to the ground.
That, at least, is what I chose to focus upon on Tuesday, walking through the sunlight, in a place where autumn is forever golden