Patchwork of Jewels

 22 Oct 2024

A month ago I lay in bed and looked out the north window, as I do most mornings. All summer the window view is a mass of green maple leaves. But that day I saw a few tiny patches of blue among the green expanse. I realized that my beloved tree was slowly thinning.

By the time we returned from Netherlands, three weeks later, the window view was golden with many spots of blue. This morning it was a veritable patchwork of color: predominantly yellow but sprinkled with pale green splotches, gold trimmed with cinnamon, dark brown limbs and trunk, and brilliant sky beyond.

Toward evening, as Jim and I walked from his coachhouse office to our kitchen, we paused in the driveway with wonder. Our yard was a riot of gold in the late-afternoon sunlight.

I was afraid I would miss my New England autumn, planning a European river cruise for the first 10 days of October. But I’ve been home twelve days and am in the center of the glory. I don’t remember a more beautiful show, but I often say that. Driving to my psychiatric nurse practitioner’s office in Burlington today, the visual feast was intoxicating. Green, yellow, gold, orange, amber, wheat, butterscotch, bronze, cinnamon, and ginger. A hundred hues, tints, and shades. I live in a jewel-bedecked world.

Sunglow, burnt sienna, and honey

 I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before. For the past thirty-eight years I have reveled in the simple but deep pleasure of living in New England: a place other people go to on vacation. In the fall, I enjoy walking and driving, day after day, watching the colors change from the deep augustal green through reds, oranges, yellows, and browns.

According to The Boston Globe, “Summer 2023 was the second-rainiest on record in Boston,” with more than 20 inches falling in three months.

In drought years the trees turn color early, and this year they turned late. I was happy to see that even though we were in England until October 12th, we hadn’t missed the peak in New England. Two weeks later Jim and I took a drive west to Petersham and ate supper in Barre at Red Tomato Pizza, enjoying delicious Italian food. We’d been to the town before: Barre is the terminus of my beloved Route 62.

As we headed home on this late afternoon, the sunlight on the leaves nourished our souls.

Two days later we drove to Manchester, New Hampshire, where we lived for seven years. Four of our six children were born there at Elliot Hospital. I’ve always loved the mix of deep forest green pine trees and deciduous trees in New Hampshire.

As I’ve been driving around the past few weeks, composing this post in my head, I’ve paid especial attention and tried to name all the colors of late fall. I’ve been surprised at the vibrant reds: I think of red as an early fall color. And it is. These deep scarlets are mostly single trees, obviously from a nursery and not native to the soil.

I’m also surprised by the yellows still on the trees. How to describe the colors? I went to a website website for some linguistic help. Here are some of the colors I’ve been trying to describe:

Burnt sienna, golden brown, amber, autumn gold, sunglow, golden puppy, harvest gold, sandy taupe, antique gold, cognac, aspen gold, dark goldenrod, maize, candlelight gold, saffron, honey, and caramel. Good enough to eat.

The longest autumn

This autumn has been the best birthday present of my life. Walking home from the library in late September, I said to Jim, I think this is my favorite part of fall, the bright reds and oranges in the tree crowns above the dark green. He replied, you say that every year, as if you are just discovering it.

What I actually discovered lately, was that raspberry canes shouldn’t be cut down until early winter. Research conducted at Cornell University found that the dying canes continue to send carbohydrates to the crown and roots well into winter. I found it fascinating to learn that the canes were still nourishing the roots so late in the year. The raspberry leaves don’t lose their green color because they are still working.

My favorite part of autumn lingered for weeks this year. The ‘peak’ foliage, when most of the leaves have changed from green to red, yellow, and orange, happened near the end of October, two or three weeks later than usual.

The week before Thanksgiving there were still tenacious leaves scattered among the bare limbs: amber, wheat, butterscotch, bronze, cinnamon, and ginger. They remind me of making my famous Conference ginger snaps: ground ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves scattered on top of the flour.

Even today, the last of November, the tawny remnants of leaves are seen amidst the trees.