I’m finding the transformation of nature this time of year breathtaking. The vibrancy and variety of colors transforms the environment so dramatically my visual surroundings become something totally other, so changed, that, on a walk in the woods, I find myself someplace unrecognizable as if it were another world.
Nature though is dying, she is in the throes of death, breathing a last gasp as she fades into dormancy. In another month these woods will appear dead, reduced to subdued browns and grays. They will have been abandoned by songbirds and hibernating animals. There will be little to suggest there is any life existing here at all. The death of nature will, of course, eventually transition into a sort of rebirth or at least a regeneration of life as the seasons advance.
What makes nature’s metaphorical death so unique is the flair, the exuberant celebration of finality she displays. Such an enthusiastic embrace of physical demise doesn’t seem to follow for the animal world except, perhaps, for certain humans convinced they too will be reborn in the spring.
I have too have enjoyed this year’s explosion of fall colors; breathtaking views from the freeway while I drive to the sterile land of concrete and steel. 😏
I hate that I can’t edit my comments here. Doh!
I find it to be a truly amazing time of the year.
I tend to agree. There is something about the initiation of death that has a certain sensual glory; the stately glory and untouchable ethereal beauty of the end that enraptures me can’t quite be explained. I love this season. Winter, not so much.
I agree with your assessment of winter; I’m not sure about beauty flowering in human death throes but it’s certainly present in vegetative nature.