After a weekend of rain followed by high wind, the leaves are flying. This morning in the cemetery, the hillside, which had remained resolutely green as if defying the changing season, was yellow with red accents where it wasn't already denuded. Even the ginkgos, which frequently are a gorgeous butter yellow at the end of October, stood starkly against the blue sky and the rising sun.
If I remember correctly from my English literature courses, it is considered poor writing—or even cheating—to suggest that the weather reflects human emotions. the classic example is creating a “It was a dark and windy night” scene in order to send shivers up and down the readers spine for no good reason. But I can’t help thinking that there’s a nice symbol in wind blowing away leaves at the moment. We have a municipal election on the weekend, and it would be a good idea to shake things up a little.
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