Change

I love fall, it is my favorite season, but nevertheless it is sad to see the flowers go and the leaves laying, brown and crisp, on the ground. They always remind me of the passage from Milton's Paradise Lost where he is describing the fallen angels.

"Of that inflamed Sea, he stood and call'd
His Legions, Angel Forms, who lay intrans't
Thick as Autumnal Leaves that strow the Brooks
In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades
High overarch't imbowr; or scatterd sedge
Afloat, when with fierce Winds Orion arm'd"




The first time I read this I lived in Florida, and the image didn't really stick out, but now as I drive through the country roads in autumn and see the forest carpeted with these fallen leaves, I think of Satan's newly banished legions and try to comprehend there number.



Winter, I think, has its own beauty because with winter comes snow, fires, cider, scarfs and boots. And there is nothing quite like the stillness which is felt when crossing a freshly snow covered field late at night and seeing the stars, bright and far away. On those nights it is as though the atmosphere had dissolved with the cold and that there is no barrier between heaven and earth. And as I look up at the sky and see my breath, I am struck by the vastness of it all.