I am not an expert on Fall in New England. But I do loooooove Fall. I grew up in the land of four seasons – Pennsylvania stuck resolutely to the Winter Spring Summer Fall rotation, the colors of the world unfolding and receding with each turn of the earth and turn back and ahead of the clock. And while living amidst the seasons, I, as most children do, didn’t notice them at all except as they related to school bells and breaks.
As I grew up, and moved away, I became more aware of what I loved, and what I left behind, and I honed in on Fall as my favorite season, since it was something I no longer had, but also for so many other reasons. Thanksgiving is part of that. Yes, because it falls smack in the middle of Fall, but also for all it stands for and all it brings back – memories of school projects, fashioning turkeys and feathers from construction paper, celebrating bountiful harvests and being grateful for what we have and what we can bring to others in their lives, cooling temperatures and pulling feather duvets out of closets. But more than Thanksgiving, more than a dip in the numbers on a thermometer, fall is riotous color. It’s nature gone wild in one last fierce attempt to fly before burying beneath the covers to recharge and reinvent. Now that is something I can relate to.
It had been a while since I had seen Fall color with my own eyes. And, fortunately, in October, I was able to remedy that by immersing myself in Fall with a short, and certainly not comprehensive, visit to New England. During my one week trip to photograph a wedding in New Hampshire, I visited Boston (see post here), Nantucket (see post here) and Plymouth and caught a glimpse of all the glorious colors burning through the trees like wildfire -red, ochre, cinnamon, umber, sienna. And, as it always does, it enthralled me, wrapping me in it’s cocoon of chilly days and chillier nights, tempting me with apple-everything, the smell of bonfires sparking and snapping and sending embers to disappear into the clear and cold night sky. Gazing overhead at the gold-etched leaves clinging tenuously to branches, waiting for one brisk gust to send them whirling and swirling through the sky before settling to the ground, I reveled in the turn of the seasons and the messages it holds for all those who care to pause and listen. Oh fall, you are my muse.
Enjoy Fall in all its stunning glory as I dance through Nantucket, follow in the footsteps of the Pilgrims in Plymouth, and wax philosophical in the hallowed halls of Harvard.
Plymouth
Harvard
Boston Commons
Nantucket
Sue HarrisSimply put, these are beautiful.