When living for nearly eight years in Southern California, at the beach that is, I would lament at the absence of Autumn colors. Years spent living in places such as Colorado, Virginia, Oregon, Pennsylvania and Alabama had me pining for that carpet of fall colors, you know…the ones that evoke oohs and aahs on the east coast, such as in the coastal plains, the Blue Ridge and Piedmont regions of Virginia or in the west, up in the majestic Rocky Mountains, or even along the picturesque Appalachian trail.
I know that life at the beach means one is not going to find Aspen trees with their stunningly vibrant yellow-gold leaves dancing in barely a whisper of a breeze, nor will there be a profusion of red and orange on maple trees (nor heaps of their leaves needing to be raked from lawns and sidewalks), or deep scarlet reds from dogwoods or sourwoods to be admired during even the routine drive to the grocery store. And oh how I miss that brilliant blood red of the lovely dwarf Japanese maple that literally filled the front window at my last house in Virginia. So lovely it was I chose not to put window coverings in that room.
But while I sigh with a certain longing for what once was, I am not oblivious to what is.
On my morning walk I couldn’t help but notice that even here in my little neck of the woods …in Florida, on what is called the Space Coast, just a stone’s throw from the world of Disney (and NASA too) with temperatures still in the eighties, I can see– though barely evident– a seasonal shift in the landscape. There is some color to enjoy as October nears its end and we head closer to “winter” at the beach.
For example, there are some types of landscape sea grass (I have yet to learn the proper names) that are no longer a vibrant green.
And though the palm trees here don’t change color, there are still plenty of flowers amongst the pumpkins and all the fun Halloween decor providing color to brighten one’s day, and some are even in my yard.
So, my dear “four” readers, while I don’t hear the crunch of dried autumn leaves beneath my feet, nor am I raking leaves during crisp-cold mornings with The Poodle sunning himself nearby…nor, as in years past, am I spell-bound by an array of spectacular fall foliage… I am trying–with some success– to enjoy this different kind of autumn.
There is bliss in that.