The Sound of Crackling Leaves

In honor of the first weekend of autumn, I headed out to one of our wonderful state parks to see what secrets the forest would share. Although I found no hieroglyphics etched in stones, I heard the rustling of leaves, the songs of the birds and the scurrying of small unseen creatures in the brush.

Some of the leaves have already made their final journey; their dried carcasses left upon the footpaths. I love the sound of crunching leaves underfoot even when it interferes with my chance to glimpse the life of those who make the forest their home.

The harvest colors are already beginning to appear: the soft browns, warm yellow-oranges, fiery reds and purples. The greens are still present along with the blue sky which presents the full rainbow of color, a true celebration of life.

As humans we are anything but quiet- we walk noisily, we talk noisily and rarely sit still. Sometimes I like to stop, shed those human qualities (if this is truly possible) and just be- to take in my surroundings, allow them to fill me with their stories. The trees speak of beautiful days basking in the sun and hard weather; birds speak of visitors, both friend and foe; and the little animals and bugs speak of change.

Stopping the rush of everyday life, of forcing things to go the way we believe they should can produce amazing results. It isn't necessary that our focus always remain on the future. Sometimes the now is more important, just to be. So much can be missed when we forget to look and direct our attention to what is in front of us.