Some people prefer the big, colorful, bright and brash bombast that fall can afford, the way the forests light aflame ~ the maple trees like the rocket’s red glare and the dogwood leaves like embers. The birch turns a brilliant canary yellow and the oak burns into a reddish brown like the earth from which it rose.
While such pyrotechnics are wonderful to watch, I’ve grown fonder of the pale faded beauty that some leaves put on as their show. They let the color drain from their leaves, growing chartreuse then yellow before finally lightening until they become a pale echo of themselves. It is this ghostly shade I now find most fascinating. It glows in the garden at a time when night comes too soon.
