A Few Months Ago I Sat

A few months ago I sat in the passenger seat as we drove across the length of Pennsylvania. It was at the peak of Autumn Leaves season, and I was just overwhelmed with how beautiful it was.

Normally on a long drive I alternately knit, sketch, pray or meditate, converse, and nap.  Often I pay little attention to the countryside flying by, having traveled the same route many times, but this time I couldn't look away from the scenery. 

Perhaps it was the quality of the light on that day — though we drove for hours so the angle of the sun varied.  More likely it was just my mood.  

I remember my amazement the first time I heard that the fall scenery was a tourist attraction; to me, it had always been simply where I live. But on this day I could really appreciate why people might travel just to see this.

Whether it was just my mood or whether nature was being exceptionally extravagant this year, it seemed that there was so much to see that I was just aching for more people, even crowds (I usually avoid crowds) to share it with.

I had a good view from my car window on the highway, with frequent wide vistas and occasional closer, more intimate views.





Still there seemed to be so much more just beyond the roadside, just around the other side of each hill, just down the roads that crossed our path and dwindled into the distance, that it caught my breath.

I took in as much of it as I could, as if I had been thirsting for a long time and was finally offered a cool delicious drink, as if it were up to me to appreciate this incredible view on behalf of everyone who couldn't be there or who drove through it insensible to its ravishing loveliness.

Although we drove for hours — over 300 miles — there didn't seem to be enough time to look at it properly, to appreciate it fully.

I felt almost a sense of urgency to look as much as I could.  Night was drawing closer, and I knew that at this temperamental time of year one good storm would bring down all the leaves, extinguishing the opportunity to see it like this for another year.

I would have sketched it, but I didn't want to stop looking for even an instant. I'm not that adept an artist, and in the one or two minutes it would take to capture even a hint of the vision on paper another precious mile would be lost. 

I jotted a few words down to remember it by, hardly looking at the paper and hoping I'd be able to read them later.  

The phrases I scribbled out could hardly compare to the beauty I was seeing: the light on the rocks, the unexpected lushness of the undergrowth beneath partly bared skeletons of trees, dense patches of shady hemlocks punctuating the brilliant colors of deciduous trees, and the fantastic sunlight angling in beneath a glowering sky. 

I thank God for having lived this day and had this experience, for seeing my ordinary everyday world with fresh eyes.  I hope these few photos can help you to glimpse it, too.