I shot both of today’s photographs in Newton last weekend…and this morning, I noticed that both the maple and dogwood pictured above have almost entirely lost their leaves. What was gold, red, and green last weekend was simply green and twiggy today.
Last year, I explained how I typically worry I’ll miss the peak autumn foliage, as if somewhere or sometime else, there’s scenery that looks prettier than whatever I’m contemplating at the moment. And yet what other time do we have than the present, and what other image do we have to contemplate than the one that presents itself both Here and Now?
I think I snap frequent fall photos in part to stave off this anxiety that I’ll somehow miss the subtle shift from one season to another. If I can flip through photos and see the change from Last Week to Today, surely I’ll see the mystical moment when Summer crosses the threshold into Autumn and the similarly slippery instant when Fall slips into Winter. And yet this pursuit is itself doomed because time cannot be stockpiled. As much as I perpetually pursue the enigma called Today, she always manages to transform herself into Tomorrow, guaranteed.