Let us not look back in anger, nor forward in fear, but around in awareness.
– James Thurber
In the quiet afternoons of autumn, like this one, the cool breezes and subtle sunlight sifting through the trees coaxes me to be aware of the intricate details of my surroundings. A mockingbird came to sing right above my head and seemed to appreciate my returning whistles. The sunlight only touched thin slivers of the back yard after the shining body settled behind the trees. When there came a break between cars passing by, the crickets and frogs sang together in a whisper. Mittens’ foot steps were the loudest noises to be heard, crisping and crunching through the maple leaves.
A piece of ash settled on my knee; a sign that sugarcane season and allergies are near. Fall afternoons are nothing to be compared to. Mockingbirds sing despite the traffic, and they only have crickets to compete with. I long to be someplace where all the trees change colors and fill the surrounding hills with a fall palette. Our squirrels would come, too, so that they could build their nests and raise their families in the most beautiful of trees.