At the end of the day it’s just a bunch of leaves, but the thing is, you have hope that the day never ends.
It was the pervasive feeling driving through Connecticut making the way from Middletown on Highway Nine toward Old Lyme and north on Highway One to Groton and Mystic. The colors are stunning in ways that make them almost too defined to record.
Poets and writers far more eloquent than I have stumbled to find descriptive words that try to meet the measure of nature’s autumn in the northeast.
For those first timers, trying to keep a close check on over romanticizing the season, you do wonder if those who view the color daily take it for granted.
I’d like to believe they don’t.