Autumn Journeys

The light. I think that is what strikes me most. The sun has moved to the south, the shadows have a different angle and hue. It sets my mind to wandering and my feet to paths strewn with golden leafs. The autumn has always set my heart toward the horizon, toward the woods. Perhaps its because I’ve always intuited an end necessitates a new beginning. And the fall is a massive threshold, summer’s lush bounty being harvested in a daily, methodic threshing. It calls me like a song, like sirens to the starboard. It calls and I must go.

Leafs tumble in a see-saw-esque dance with gravity. Birds flee south and crows waft and fall through the sky, their dark dance particularly fitting and in step with the mood.

Scents of harvest and spice, mouldering things and turned earth. The sound of gravel crunching underfoot, and the embrace of a warm wool and fleece wrapped against the prying fingers of the wind. The autumn journey warms my heart and blows the embers of my imagination into flames. It projects images from my most treasured books and movies on to the screen of my inner mind, and enfolds me in the sense memories stored with those marvelous artifacts. This is a time when I feel unbound, unleashed, and ready for new things. Knocking on the door, hoping to meet the door warden, and to be swept away by tides of adventure and mystery.