A Field Trip of Color: In my neighborhood

Loosely gripping the steering wheel, I sit quietly in the car. My mind going a million miles, I vaguely notice the side of the road as I pass by. It is quiet in the van.  The radio is off and I am alone. I turn into our subdivision and I gasp at the color that is over powering.  Each time it is the same response. The trees are clothes in a vast array of color and it a visual slap to pay attention. It must be my favorite time, the world just glows and all I want to do is pull up a chair, grab a hot cocoa and sit and watch.

The rain starts against the window, just a pat pat at first and then it becomes more forceful until it violently throws itself at the windows. Everyone is on their devices in various places of the house. I peer out the window, watching the rain knock the leaves off the trees. It makes me sad to see the color start to disappear. I know that once the leaves are gone so will the color be gone and we will be left with bare brown branches against the low grey sky. The sky pushes towards the ground here and the color keeps it at bay. I grab my camera, an umbrella and asking if anyone wants to go for a walk with me.  They look at me like I'm crazy and maybe I am.  I just want a piece of the color before the sky and rain take it away.  Slipping on rain boots, I step outside and open the umbrella. The rain starts its barrage against my protection and I shuffle towards the sidewalk intent on seeing every little beautiful piece of color in the subdivision. My boots kick up the wet leaves along the side walk and where the sidewalk is bare, the leaves have been pushed into the street waiting for the street sweeper to come along.  I leave the sidewalk for the more colorful part and shuffle through the leaves in the gutter, watching the water build up into tiny lakes. The drains clogged by the massive amount of the leaves.  Pushing them to the side, the water then races down the drain taking some of the leaves with them. The leaves continue to drop, one, two, three, or more at a time from the trees. Capturing one on film is difficult. They float, then are pushed one direction or another by the rain. It splatters on the ground, the tops of the mailboxes, in the puddles, creating bubbles among the leaves. The walk is done too soon and yet I am wet through, knowing though this will be my last walk through the tunnel of color because after the rain the color will be gone,

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