Autumn’s Splendor, Sally Jamrog ’23

Sally Jamrog ’23

Autumn’s Splendor

The air seized my lungs, reminding me of the winter that would proceed. I watched my feet scale the hill, one after another, locked in a steady rhythm. I adjusted my pace, bringing my left foot down a split-second sooner than it had previously. Now they were climbing the hill faster than before; the drum in my chest quickened. I watched as new trees crept into view. I was almost at the top of the hill, a few more minutes until I reached my destination and my long trek would end.

An object brushed my nose and I closed my left eye sharply—something was caught in its lashes. I halted my pace and tried to rub the thing out. Blinking furiously, I had to yank off my glove in order to relieve my discomfort. The cold raked my fingers. Another object brushed my bare knuckle. I caught it this time and brought it closer to my line of vision.

While most autumn leaves are classified under red, orange, or yellow, this one I could not place. Its veins looked as if they pumped real blood, dark red, across the lamina weaving their way through speckles of orange. Yellow mingled with the red to create a dynamic auburn that grasped the leaf’s margin, drawing focus to its majesty.

I let the leaf fall into a cluster of others at my feet. I did not keep walking, but stood there, transfixed as new leaves were added to piles all around me, noticing which colors of leaves came more frequently from certain trees. I resumed my pace, watching as the colorful canopy above my head slowly dissolved into piles at my feet.

My foot caught on a crack in the pavement and I stumbled. Abruptly I brought my attention down from the leaves and back to the world in front of me, realizing I was home. I shook off the remaining leaves clinging to my shoelaces and brought my key into my hands. I paused to take a last glance at the trees, acknowledging autumn’s peak. Turning the doorknob, I wrenched my eyes away and continued inside.