The sun steadily approaches the eastern horizon and night gradually changes to dawn. Daybreak comes with the sun rising rapidly through its path over Appalachian Mountain County Earth at a steady pace.
It is late Autumn now and as this season's leaves fall there are more vista-views throughout the woodlands.
Walking in the leaves that lay loosely over and among each other, is like the sound of finger- walking in a bowl of corn flakes before the milk is added.
A quiet sound hovers over our heads like a
light rain falling on the canopy's of the trees. We fantasize for a moment a dozen
squirrels tip-toeing quick and quiet in the newly fallen leaves or wood elves scurrying
under cover in the dawn's early light or the fleeting beat of butterfly wings.
In the next moment hemlock needles fall with a quiet rustling sound that intermingles with that of the leaves.
The fall of each leaf is as unique as its size and shape. Some come down in a plummeting fashion, stem first, others glide gradually down, still others spin like a top, rocking back and forth like a cradle, or swing, loop, flip, dip, flutter, or a combination of all.
Looking out across the forest floor sees a mixture of totally brown oak and beech leaves that glistens ripe-lemon yellow from the slanting rays of the rising sun.
Snow falls out of a light bluish-gray, early-morning sky across the face of the hills.
There is an extra specialness to the still brightly colored pinks and reds and yellows of Autumn leaves as snowflakes gather and cling to their edges.
Half the sky is filled with clouds; the other half is blue. The sun shines brightly through the falling flakes giving birth to a myriad of snow bows.
As we are bound by the spell of the colors they assemble in stripes and arrange themselves into one grand semi-circular arc - a snowbow!
Only in Appalachian Mountain Country where the seasons are so definite can we experience this magical change and all it took is the fluffy furry flakes of this year's first flippant and fancy snowfall.
Copyright © 1988, 1999 Barbara A. Smith and John G. Hipps. All rights reserved.
This essay was first published October 19, 1988 in the Free-Press Courier, Westfield, Pennsylvania.