Fall Reflections. . .

Today, my roommates and I attempted to trek up to Taylor's Falls area to go climbing and hiking and enjoy the balmy fall weather. It seemed as if everyone else in the Twin Cities had that idea as well. Eventually, exasperated with traffic on these country roads, we pulled off in an unassuming county park and pulled out our picnic lunch. The park area consisted of a small beach and picnic area and a tiny, placid lake surrounded by dense forest.
After eating with my traveling companions, I walked down to the water to put my feet in for a while. It was by far one of the clearest lakes I have ever seen. I waded back and forth, looking like a human pendulum along that shallow beachfront, but I was enamored by the water, the light, the colors, the sounds.
I don't often let myself rest in a place where all of my senses come alive, but I wish that I did. I couldn't stop staring at the way the light created incredible pattterns under the glassy water, and the fall colors (which will soon be gone, I'm sure) are so intense right now, or just the sounds of nature, breath, time. . .

I think one of the most enormous tragedies of life is when we all stop being astounded.

We simply grow accustomed to each other, the world, different thoughts and ideas. I realized today that fall is so breathtaking for me every year is on account of its brevity. It remains for such a short time, and then is so quickly gone; we ought to absorb it for all its worth right now. I have certain trees that I "visit" each fall (I can't tell you where they are, or you would start visiting them as well), to take in their changes and beauty, it's like a small performance for me to experience, even if I just drive by them once a day all throughout the fall.
I am so deeply afraid of someday becoming immune to the presence of beauty in our world . . . .or just not stopping to SEE it.

I have this quote by my bed:
"Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it." -Confucius