"The Quiet Season"

Each year I wait for the maple tree at the end of my street to change. It begins quietly, with a soft blush of orange and red at the edges of its leaves. I notice it one morning on my way to work, sunlight pooling through the branches, and I promise myself I will not rush through this season.

Then, almost overnight, she becomes radiant. The maple stands in her full glory, draped in a fiery gown of color so vivid it makes me stop in my tracks. Her splendor feels alive, as if the air itself glows around her. I rearrange my schedule, cancel plans, and let messages go unanswered so I can walk beside her each day.

The air is cooler now, laced with the scent of earth and fading summer. Fallen leaves whisper against the pavement as I move through the golden light. Each day the colors deepen, green surrendering to bronze and flame. For those few weeks when she wears her autumn gown, everything feels steady. I feel like the wealthiest person alive to witness such grace.

When the last leaf drifts to the ground, I always feel a quiet ache, but also peace. The world has reminded me once again to slow down and pay attention.