Autumn

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A tree in autumn.

Autumn

As my parents and I walked alongside the stream, we noticed the first signs of autumn. Leaves of all shapes and sizes lay scattered across the ground; some a sunny shade of yellow, some apple red, and some the color of grass. Sunbeams struggled through the canopy and there were many shadows everywhere. The sun danced on the stream, and at times, the water was blinding. The air was abundant with the smell of autumn in the woods.

We could hear bird calls from all corners of the woods, though they were slightly muffled by the crackling sound of leaves and branches under our feet. The water made a soft, calm, noise, while the wind swished through the leaves. Occasionally my parents would talk for a short while before each went back to his or her own thoughts. The faint, chaotic sounds of the highway could be faintly heard whenever the trail approached the road.

In the afternoon, we took a short break to sit on the bank next to the stream. The air felt fresh, and the flies buzzed harmoniously above the water. I stepped into the shallow stream and it was so cold I felt as if I had received an electric shock.

When we resumed our walk, we passed through open fields, hills, and roads. We came across rusted dishwashers and other types of waste. We went uphill and then downhill until we could once again hear the faint gurgles of the stream. The marks on the trees began to look familiar, and we were suddenly jerked back to reality as the shade of the Seneca River trees turned into the sunny parking lot. We had been walking for four hours, but the magic of the woods made it seem as if we were there for four days.

As we drove past skyscrapers on the way home, I could see the shadows that the sun made through the buildings. I could hear the swishing of cars. I was stricken by the obnoxious honking of the highway. We had gotten back to reality.

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