The Dropping of Leaves

I have taken a long hiatus from posting. I teach a course, Emerson's Essays and the Transcendentalists, where we study and interpret the work of Ralph Waldo Emerson. We look at several essays like Nature, Self Reliance, Over-Soul, Circles and others. We begin with 'Nature', from the 2nd Series which was published in 1841. One of the class assignments is 'to be like Emerson' by maintaining a 'beauty log', a journal keptduring the 8 weeks of class. Listening to my students' experiences has revived my interest to write.

Nature is my home, my comfort. The trees deeply rooted in Earth are my reminder of the depth of my connection to the land and the forest. Over the past 3-4 years I've developed my favorite spots to visit at local 'parks of inspiration', my places of solace. That which is a noisy sports field in the afternoon or weekend is a quiet and natural beauty early in the morning.

On many Spring, Summer and Fall mornings I would stop by and rest, witness, and affirm the goodness of the day. Sometimes I would walk across the grass or through the dirt infield of a ball field. Other times I would just rest on a bench and listen. Listen to nature. Far from highways I treasure the silence, trees surrounding the park, the grass field and the colors.

There is a time in fall, when the leaves turn color and there is a time when they release and fall to the ground. One October morning, where I normally experience silence, I was enamored by the sound of leaves falling, of the collision of summer's green beauties now turned bright yellow and dropping. Listen to the forest.