Dear Fall in upstate NY, it is the time of year when you gently remind us, silence is a sound.
Because you never enter too loudly, you quietly make your way around and settle in.
You tip-toe your way into our world at the very end of August, but never too loudly, never with too much sound.
You start off so warm, asking us to hold on to summer for as long as possible.
You linger in the warmth. You allow us to linger in it too.
You like to remind us, silence is a sound.
As the leaves start to turn and the mornings get cooler, you allow the sun to fill our days with warmth.
As the rain comes down and shakes the leaves off, you tell us how okay we all will be with letting go.
As the wind calmly blows pine needles down, you remind us, silence is a sound.
Dear Fall, each year we turn to you and your colors.
We turn to you for your reminders.
We bundle ourselves into you for warmth.
We fall into hot water to take the chill off our bones.
And all the while, you are reminding us, silence is a sound.
You are the beginning of what can feel like the end.
But in your true beauty, you are also our start.
You are the start of hibernation.
You are the start of slow.
You are the start of gorgeous.
You are the start of seeing our breath in the morning.
You are our reminder, silence is a sound.
As I walk in your shed leaves, I hear the amazing crunch under my feet.
As I take in your color wheel, I catch my breath at your beauty.
As I see how low the sun hangs and paints everything in your gold, I am reminded that light matters.
As I see how quickly things turn to dark now, I am reminded that we all need our rest.
As I hear nothing during my walks, I am reminded, silence is a sound.
