Walk with a painter

Of the four seasons we experience here in Pennsylvania, Autumn is by far my favorite. I have written about this before in earlier postings regarding the magnificent foliage colors in October, but the somber and subdued colors of November hold a great attraction for me also. Not only the colors but the sounds as well. One of my creature comforts is lying in bed early on a cold, rainy November morning listening to the mournful whistle of a distant train as it snakes its way through the hills and valleys of Westmoreland County. When the leaves are off the trees, we have an uninterrupted view of approximately 12 miles, as the crow flies, of Chestnut Ridge winding to the southwest. This blue/purple ridge line has been an inspiration for me for the past 41 years and I never tire of viewing it from our living room window. I wrote a poem many years ago titled, “November Roads”, which is a way of expressing myself of the feelings within concerning this time of year.

This smoky mist, this purple haze, that lay among the hills, this ochre field, this umber wood, long gone are summer frills. The pines that stand forever straight throughout these misty days, also cloak themselves at last in shades of subtle grays. Wet leaves that coat these moody roads now choked with hunters high, are blown from trees that march against the windswept leaden sky. The crows that wheel and dance and steal above these roads of mine are but a testament of life that fly the windy line. How gaunt, how dark, how wonderfully stark November roads you see, hold promises of a season near for the autumn boy in me.