I spend most of October stumbling through my days. Although I do plenty of tripping during the rest of the year my annual fall battle with gravity is induced by the hypnotic kaleidoscope of colors that appear for a few weeks above my head.
I just can’t help it. When I pass a towering maple or oak glowing with orange, yellow or red shades almost involuntarily my eyes turn skyward to drink in the view. Before I know it, I’m lost in the brilliant collage of hues and, as a result sometimes, the sidewalk creeps up on me.
Last year, during a hike at Kincaid Lake State Park in October I turned an ankle while admiring a crab apple tree and spent more than a few weeks hobbling around with a severe sprain. It was so bad, I actually even had to have an MRI to make sure I hadn’t torn something or broken my foot.
So this year, my autumn resolution is to be a safer foliage spectator. I sternly remind myself each day to stand still or sit down before a prolonged look skyward.
Of course, I also have to frequently remind myself while driving to keep my eyes on the road and not in the trees.
I intentionally change my commute during fall to avoid passing Central Park so I’m not tempted to gaze off into the autumn splendor while still behind the wheel. For the safety of others, particularly the school children in the area, I always park before gawking.
Needless to say, my husband does most of our collective driving during the month, especially if we head to the mountains for a weekend in the woods.
Actually, its the first trip we ever took to the woods during autumn that I blame for the powerful spell the season now seems to cast on me.
We fell in love during October. Our story unfolded on a background radiantly set by Mother Nature.
Our first date was an eight-mile hike through the brilliantly colored woods at Carter Caves. I’ll never forget standing at an overlook drinking in the view and praying for that first kiss.
Two weeks later spurred entirely by the captivating display being staged in Ashland, we took a spontaneous trip through the Monongahela National Forest in West Virginia. There the trees were aflame in the most spectacular colors either of us had ever seen.
For three glorious days we winded slowly down two lane roads or crunched down paths littered with a tapestry of fallen leaves. I remember being absolutely giddy from our connection and the natural beauty engulfing us.
That particularly beautiful autumn, and the powerful emotions I was experiencing during it, made such an impression on my soul that each year since whenever I spot one of nature’s fleeting autumn masterpieces I get swept away all over again.
The vibrant colors, the pungent smell of the crisp air are the magic ingredients needed to trigger that unique time- and space-altering phenomenon we all experience from time to time. I become so consumed by my memories of that time it takes me a few moments to realize where I am and what year it is.
That is until something — like a stumble — jerks me back into reality.
CARRIE STAMBAUGH can be reached at cstambaugh@dailyindependent.com or (606) 326-2653.
