Fall's Love Letter / by chris miele

Early season simmer.  Ohiopyle State Park, PA.

I'll forever be a student of the seasons.

Sure, the autumnal equinox will always have the spectacal of color, but it's more than just splattered paint impressions on digital canvases.  Fall has a way of forcing us to recognize change, insisting that we notice the minuscule and overshadowed.  Our senses are called into duty and administered daily tests of their sharpness and awareness of the acute.  Your latitude dictates the timing and intensity of change, and in addition, your resilience to the physical world.  Summer days that linger too long burn, only to turn into apparitions of fog and steam by morning.  Sporadic rains teeter between the confusion of a thunderstorm and the party-crashing attitude of winter.  Invigorated, confused, or aggravated, regardless the reaction, it reminds you that you're alive.   

Liquid, laid out.  Ohiopyle State Park, PA.

Eight dollar oil painting.  Ligonier, PA.

Fall is when the subconscious rises from its sun baked slumber.

Patterns and rituals fall from the safety of closely guarded change.  Animals sense it long before you even start reaching for that extra wool jacket.  Airborne patterns of your favorite bird neighbors start showing signs of altered flights.  Bees and their furious pace slows to that of animatronics with temperature sensors, reacting in-sync with the newfound chill in the air.  Each morning, fresher than the last.

 

Rock hopping in the AM.  Ohiopyle State Park, PA.

 

Sloping mountains making wonderful projection screens for the sun's late day rays.  Ohiopyle State Park, PA.

Ignore change, end up surprised by the inevitable.

I feel that we're far more primitive in our psyche than the over-abundance of technology will allow us to believe.  Greeting us through the curtains, the daylight often affects our brains deeper than we we chose to accept.  For some, that means that sunrise comes easier, and while almost welcomed, it's in that moment that pattern change begins.  Fighting through the urge to stay in, surrender becomes reward.  As the frigid air snaps you from the stupor of dawn, the trophy is unveiled as layers of frosted ground morph the visible realm into rivers of vapor. 

Watching wandering waves.  June Lake, CA.

Maple, glass, and oak.  Porltand, OR.

An early encounter with The Gorge.  Columbia River Gorge, OR..

excela_square_fall-7.jpg

Must we never forget about the light.

Placement on the globe certainly steers the ship of change, thus continuing to visit different latitudes for Fall has become a key research ingredient.  Popular scenes only become possible from key selections in time, often a seasonal change.   For some, power moments such as the sun's exit over the Pacific only comes into view in the fall.  Rivers breath breaths of relief as summer days dive into the depths of near freezing temperatures.  Experiencing the change is an exercise in awareness and patience, hopefully resulting in a spike in ones vitalty.  Luckily we get four chances a year to better understand it all. 

High autumn, high drama.  Santa Monica, CA.

Sum of all the parts  Sabrina Lake, CA.

 

Made possible by only the driest of October air.  A fovever favorite.  Devils Post Pile, CA.