Color shift, mood shift

(a do-dad from the sketchbook)

The wind in the trees at night in October sounds like all the silent wishes of dreams, rushing to be first in line.

Autumn feels like putting a lid on a box of memories, packing away warm weather clothes in trade for sweaters and scarves. It has a newness in its own right, too, but only first by closing the chapter that was Summer. It carries an early morning mist and a nascent darkness.

The seasonal shift invites nostalgia, but more than that— invites a curiosity of the new year, always arriving both too quickly and too late, or in a slumber state wherein one can’t rightly grasp it.
mthope_yellowSome of my favorite parts of pumpkin season: the jeweled glow of early evening windows as I walk past row houses and brownstones; sidewalks and steps carpeted in bright-gold leaves; Japanese maples in full, rich blood tones.

Short-lived slices of beauty that tease and tense before the long grey of winter in the city. Always I feel a love-hate at this transition.



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