the sight of a golden wood on a crisp autumn day is my favorite kind of music. when this mustardy patch of woods caught our eye from the freeway the other day, we pulled right off the road to sniff it out. when all you see for weeks on end is brick & concrete, the thought of your feet prodding soft earth is consuming.
and as we ambled down the path, a leaf fell & landed at my feet. and i was absurdly happy over it -- it's been too long since i've seen that. i've stepped on my share of fallen leaves, but this was the first one i'd seen tumble all fall. and there's a big, big difference there, friends. and, well, that made me a little sad. because i don't feel quite like me without a healthy patch of trees about. that's what growing up in woodsy virginia & the ever, ever green seattle will do to you. those trees become a part of who you are, involved in your art, enmeshed in the fabric of your soul. i never feel more myself than in a quiet patch of wood, in the middle of the fall.