The Ecstasy of Beech Leaf Season

I am at home in the post-Columbus Day weekend stretch of October. The treetops may be bare, but the adolescent beech trees hold onto their leaves. Year after year, I’m stricken speechless by their electric bounty, by the way they light a dark forest. They take over the woods in their varying shades, from lime green to luminous gold. They shimmer, they glow, they infuse the murkiest copse with fairy lights.

For the last few days, it rained. The sky was a foreboding gray, winds tore across the landscapes, rivers roared, and a dank chill ran the length of my spine. Even in this drear, the beech leaves pulsed in contrast to the sodden tree trunks. Today, under brilliant blue skies, they are a joyous fire of celebration. They dance to the music of a gentle breeze and sway as if to a lullaby. More than once, we stopped on our walk so Samwise and Emily could sniff the leaves on the ground and for me to look in bedazzled wonder at the glow around my head.