I think every autumn life seems to speed up just when nature is slowing down. But I’m not here to write speculation today, just to share the words of someone else. I thought I’d post some Lloyd Schwartz, and if you are in the mood you should certainly follow the rest of the poem at this link.
You’ll be driving along depressed when suddenly
a cloud will move and the sun will muscle through
and ignite the hills. It may not last. Probably
won’t last. But for a moment the whole world
comes to. Wakes up. Proves it lives. It lives—
red, yellow, orange, brown, russet, ocher, vermilion,
gold. Flame and rust. Flame and rust, the permutations
Have a good weekend, folks.