Leaves

Stomping through London yesterday in the rain: dodging pedestrians now complicated by the necessity of jumping puddles. I glance down to see the leaves underfoot, glazed to the wet pavement, coloured shadows against the grey stone. Autumn is turning, or should i say Fall falling? Later than usual, but the gold, yellow and red is suffusing the green, fading into end of year bleakness with one final blaze of glory.

Leaves

It’s a transition time: green to brown, summer to winter. Hot to cold. And as with any transition: uncertainty. The weather becomes more variable, less predictable. Summer falls but winter not yet here: transition.

Today in Wales, stomping through an ancient woodland: brambles clawing at my legs, sun setting across the valley. Underfoot: leaves. Red, brown and blackened. Fallen. A hundred miles from the city here, but leaves abound.

They’ve served their purpose: used, discarded. Like rubbish, but not the rubbish on the street. The rubbish underfoot in the gutters of the city. This is part of the circle: from leaf to soil, soil through the winter light, then first buds of spring. Spring into summer: young buds reaching for the light, bearing fruit and seed, flowers abundant. Then back to the fall: circles and light, winter and Fall.

I like this cycle, the sense of eternity, as i watch the leaves at my feet. Beautiful even as they fall.

About julianstodd

Author and Founder of Sea Salt Learning. My work explores the Social Age. I’ve written ten books, and over 2,000 articles, and still learning...
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