Fall leaves

I wrote this in a journal at about noon today.  Thought you might enjoy it!  You can see more of the pictures I took today on my photos page.

Can I take back what I said about Germans being unfriendly?  I have been overwhelmed by how friendly the people I've run into lately have been.  Maybe it's just been the run of beautiful weather we've been having this week - sunny, clear, crisp, beautiful fall days - what October should be like.  It's been in the mid- to upper-sixties the last few days.  This is why fall is my favorite season.  The temperature is cooler and more comfortable (I love to wear jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt) and most of the flowers are still in bloom, with the brilliant addition of the changing leaves.  You can sit outside in the sun and drink a cup of hot tea or a glass of sweet tea.

I think that I just experienced my favorite moment since arriving in Germany (and maybe since longer).  I am sitting on a bench on the backside of the castle, in the shade.  The Schloss is on a hill, so I can see the rooftops of the city in front of me, and mountains beyond that.  I think this is the first time I've noticed the mountains nearby.  There is a section of wide-open blue sky in front of and above me, with just a few white clouds low in the sky.  The sun is to my right and although it's noon, the sun is only about 50 degrees above the horizon.  When it peeks out from behind the white cloud, it shines right through the maple tree, illuminating its pale green, golden yellow, and barely orange leaves that cascade down around me when the wind begins to blow.  When the hour reached exactly 12:00, the bells of all the churches began to compete for my attention, proclaiming the time of day out to all people in the city.

Have you ever really watched leaves fall?  If given the chance to fall from a tree without a gust of wind driving them downward, they don't merely 'fall.'  Fall is perhaps an adequate verb to describe the descent of chestnuts or acorns from their lofty perches.  They plummet down, compelled to fall down to the Earth, their smooth, rounded casings providing no or minimal resistance against their downward trajectory, and little variation from one to the next.  But a leaf; when the breeze dies down, it detaches itself from its branch, and does not fall, but rather drifts, glides, spins, twirls, flutters, turns, and settles its way earthward, its stem leading the way.  They grip onto their branches for dear life, shaking their heads, "no," when they feel the wind urging them to let go.  The ones that are forced to release by a sudden gust of wind are driven downward, compelled by this external force against their large surface area.  Ah, but for the ones that decide to detach of their own accord, that same surface area provides them wings with which to fly.  Their destination is the same, but their journey is so much more beautiful.