an argument for fall
i thought my heart would burst right out of my chest. it hurt so much, this wonderful ache that is only brought on by the most profound experiences. i wanted to close my eyes and feel how beautiful and perfect it was but it would have only stopped me from seeing everything around me. there is nothing, nothing as perfect and organic and romantic in the world as fall in new england.
philsopohers got it wrong when they said that spring was a fresh start, the philosophical beginning of the life cycle. fall is the only season that could be considered a beginning, a catalyst of change, the most incredibly thrilling and dynamic season. which is more intense, new lovers grasping hands in the spring green grass surrounded by knobby buds on trees, or padding cozily amongst a crispy yellow ground, surrounded by leaves in plum, pomegranate, raspberry, apricot, and lemon? fall is when nature mimicks what new love feels like both in intensity of color and in fleeting nature. a couple begins their journey in fall, at first holding hands to connect and warm one another's skin, pulling closer both physically and emotionally during the cold dead of winter. and as firey leaves slip from their branches to the ground, leaving only bare wood arms, so does 'falling in love' fall away by winter's cold embrace, leaving a couple only the reality of their relationship. so then spring would be not the beginning but the mere middle of a relationship cycle, when a couple can breathe again, step outside themselves and feel individual again. spring is the first test of whether the couple's closeness was forced by inclement weather or by a true connection.
i've always known i wanted a fall wedding; the enchanted nature of the season is spectacular and i can't imagine anything more romantic that joining hands, souls and families with someone else in a quiet forest of vibrant leaves and dark wet bark. i would wear the most deconstructed of dresses, a sheath in vanilla with a flimsy chiffon overlay, cinched at my waist with a cranberry-bronze ribbon. my fiancée would only need a warm dark suit in butterscotch, chocolate or honey and my bridesmaids would wear woody raw silk knee-length dresses in some fruit-inspired color. we would really only need a justice of the peace and a handful of really meaningful guests, 50 people max. afterwards we would emerge from the woods and celebrate at a nearby rented home, with tea and tea sandwiches, petit-fours, champagne and cider. the guests would leave as dusk settled in, though my bridal party would remain for an brisk evening barbeque of local fish and vegetables. though our edges might be chilled by nighttime breezes, we would have an orange golden cast to our faces from the tall fire that would keep us warm while we laughed, reminisced and planned for the future.
fall feels like brownies, warm marshmallows and hot tea. it feels like a warm cable-knit sweater or a huge down comforter. it's wet and cold like a dog's nose or your feet in a calm brook; it smells like wood burning and wet wood, all at the same time. fall is a deep breath that almost hurts your lungs and the smirking sigh of your best friend. fall is more alive than any other time, it's playful in the way you wish you still could be, and as immediate and serious as a newspaper deadline. spring has nothing over fall, no mystery or spice, color or emotion. when the sky is overcast in spring, there are only the listless twigs of unkept promises, but in the fall not even a rainy day can mask a spirited splash of orange, yellow or red. fall in new england makes my soul feel full and complete, a last luxurious and hearty hurrah before the icy incessancy that is a new england winter.
i wouldn't exchange this vivacious week in massachusetts for anything in the world, i only wish i could extend it and feel the sensation in my veins that my eyes feel when they survey a scenery of gold, amber and emerald. fall makes me believe in something greater than myself, something fantastical, even childlike. i feel so humbled by fall and so lucky to exist. i hope i'm not the only one, the only one who really sees this lovely living painting that we call a season.
philsopohers got it wrong when they said that spring was a fresh start, the philosophical beginning of the life cycle. fall is the only season that could be considered a beginning, a catalyst of change, the most incredibly thrilling and dynamic season. which is more intense, new lovers grasping hands in the spring green grass surrounded by knobby buds on trees, or padding cozily amongst a crispy yellow ground, surrounded by leaves in plum, pomegranate, raspberry, apricot, and lemon? fall is when nature mimicks what new love feels like both in intensity of color and in fleeting nature. a couple begins their journey in fall, at first holding hands to connect and warm one another's skin, pulling closer both physically and emotionally during the cold dead of winter. and as firey leaves slip from their branches to the ground, leaving only bare wood arms, so does 'falling in love' fall away by winter's cold embrace, leaving a couple only the reality of their relationship. so then spring would be not the beginning but the mere middle of a relationship cycle, when a couple can breathe again, step outside themselves and feel individual again. spring is the first test of whether the couple's closeness was forced by inclement weather or by a true connection.
i've always known i wanted a fall wedding; the enchanted nature of the season is spectacular and i can't imagine anything more romantic that joining hands, souls and families with someone else in a quiet forest of vibrant leaves and dark wet bark. i would wear the most deconstructed of dresses, a sheath in vanilla with a flimsy chiffon overlay, cinched at my waist with a cranberry-bronze ribbon. my fiancée would only need a warm dark suit in butterscotch, chocolate or honey and my bridesmaids would wear woody raw silk knee-length dresses in some fruit-inspired color. we would really only need a justice of the peace and a handful of really meaningful guests, 50 people max. afterwards we would emerge from the woods and celebrate at a nearby rented home, with tea and tea sandwiches, petit-fours, champagne and cider. the guests would leave as dusk settled in, though my bridal party would remain for an brisk evening barbeque of local fish and vegetables. though our edges might be chilled by nighttime breezes, we would have an orange golden cast to our faces from the tall fire that would keep us warm while we laughed, reminisced and planned for the future.
fall feels like brownies, warm marshmallows and hot tea. it feels like a warm cable-knit sweater or a huge down comforter. it's wet and cold like a dog's nose or your feet in a calm brook; it smells like wood burning and wet wood, all at the same time. fall is a deep breath that almost hurts your lungs and the smirking sigh of your best friend. fall is more alive than any other time, it's playful in the way you wish you still could be, and as immediate and serious as a newspaper deadline. spring has nothing over fall, no mystery or spice, color or emotion. when the sky is overcast in spring, there are only the listless twigs of unkept promises, but in the fall not even a rainy day can mask a spirited splash of orange, yellow or red. fall in new england makes my soul feel full and complete, a last luxurious and hearty hurrah before the icy incessancy that is a new england winter.
i wouldn't exchange this vivacious week in massachusetts for anything in the world, i only wish i could extend it and feel the sensation in my veins that my eyes feel when they survey a scenery of gold, amber and emerald. fall makes me believe in something greater than myself, something fantastical, even childlike. i feel so humbled by fall and so lucky to exist. i hope i'm not the only one, the only one who really sees this lovely living painting that we call a season.