Turning into Autumn

This week was busy, and I haven’t had as much time alone to feel melancholy and homesick. Being out in the world again, watching the seasons change, I’m starting to appreciate the incredible beauty here, the people and the landscapes. The trees are beginning to turn, some the most startling red I’ve ever seen. When the sun is out the colors brighten. The grass and trees appear so vibrant in contrast with the blue sky. Even when it rains, everything smells so clean and fresh, even though the colors are muted and gray. Being out and about more this week, I ended up having to use an umbrella (new for me), and although I was skeptical at first, I ended up loving my time alone, protected beneath the canopy, listening to the sound the rain made on the nylon, and splashing through puddles. I love the autumn décor: the pumpkins, squash, mums, apples and cinnamon. Everything is orange, red, yellow, green.

A tree on campus just turning

I love talking to the locals whether on the train, stores, or in small towns and the city. I love how they warm up and their eyes sparkle when I ask them about home- Boston, the north shore, and then their recommendations (I’m making a list). I think the sparkle and warmth originate from a beautiful kind of pride and rich history that they own.  I love the unique way they talk, the funny adjectives they use, and even having to apologize and ask them to repeat what they said three times because they spoke either  too fast the first two times or with too strong an accent. Sometimes I ask more questions and appear more interested just to listen to them talk. 

Walking in Chebacco Woods just a
couple miles away

"For as God is infinitely the greatest Being, so he is allowed to be infinitely the most beautiful and excellent: and all the beauty to be found throughout the whole creation is but the reflection of the diffused beams of that Being who with an infinite fullness of brightness and glory; God...is the foundation and fountain of all being and all beauty." Jonathan Edwards