Falling for Fall

I think many other artists, like me, feel re-energized to pursue their creativity in the autumn. Changes in the seasons can inspire those who are in touch with nature. During this season, I find myself thinking of the Higher Power as “The Great Artist.” I know to anthropomorphize something I really can’t understand is simplistic, but I have such admiration for this unknown artist!

When leaves turn colors, the color scheme seems chosen to warm me even as the weather cools. No longer afraid of burning from an intemperate sun, I turn my face boldly toward the sky. Sitting among trees, I can hear the varied rhythms produced by the quivering leaves. Some days the leaves have a delicate tinkle. If the day is balmy, they move together creating a soothing sound, but if the wind begins to pick up, I sense the cool coming down from Mt. Washington into my Merrimack Valley. I am in the midst of a “Happening” or an interactive “Installation” as Nature foreshadows the coming winter. And what could be more expressive than the twisted shapes of curled plants, formerly so robust, into scary gargoyles?
I find myself drawn to these distortions as an interesting form of beauty, not repelled. A baroque force that underlies these new compositions pleases me. Now the weed is as beautiful as the flower.

Yet I find nature rarely threatens with a permanent death, but promises a renewal. I see the seeds formed where my Morning Glories once bloomed; the seeds have their own smooth round containers holding a secret that shares with all other seeds the same mystery of Life. Already the beginnings of my Magnolia flowers are firmly ensconced in the branches of the tree, ready to explode with their own Big Bang at just the right time. It may take some keen observation, but finding the signs of continuous life is more satisfying for being partly hidden.

And then there is the symbolism of the autumn leaf! I sit under a turned tree and the breeze now makes the leaves fall like gentle snow, with unusual shapes and warm analogous color that needs no microscope to be seen. Our deciduous trees have been given a memorial more impressive than our earthly funerals. And shall new leaves sprout from these same branches?
We will turn that page in the spring.

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Loretta CR Hubley

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