Once In A While, I Do Notice My Surroundings

Today, I sit at home, having called in sick. Of course I feel bad about it, and I'm surprised I did it at all, but after a week of headaches and the fourth day of waking up to find that a deep breath gives the impression of someone squeezing a sponge in my chest, I decided it was best. That is all I have to say about that.

Instead, I need to tell you about something wonderful. See, we moved over here last year. I've never really had the chance (or taken the time) to describe this, and it's worth describing.

Our drive to school each morning is nothing short of amazing.

My favorite season is Fall, and it's like someone sat down and tailored the perfect stretch of road just for the season. In the ten minutes it takes to get the Moose's day care, I feel like I've taken a full tour of the best Fall has to offer.

First, the entire road is thickly lines with woods on either side, tall trees that practically explode with color. Right now, they are just getting started, small bursts of pinks and reds and oranges amongst the wall of green. Each day, it gets a bit brighter, until the drive is like barreling down a kaleidoscope each morning, colors blurring by as you go.

Now this is not so unusual, and we had a similarly woodsy drive, in spots anyway, where we were before. What really takes it the next step here is the intense fog we get. Rain or shine, we begin to develop this thick fog that, because of the hilly terrain, moves and gathers into deep pockets along the road. Frequently, the road itself has little or no fog, save the occasional crepuscular rays shooting through the colored leaves, where alongside it pools of white and gray fog lay so thickly that you can't see anything that lies beneath or beyond them. It's a dazzling effect.

The best part is that there is one major intersection with a light on our path, and we have to stop there almost every day. To our right and our left are the think woods I described earlier. Ahead of us, on the left, is a wide field with a gentle, uphill gradient leading away from the road. At the top of the hill is a large, white house with columns across the front. During the peak of the season, the fog rolls down the gradient and lays across the field in such a way that you can see the white and gray layers as you look across it.

Across from this field lay another field, and as Bob is my witness, it is a giant pumpkin patch. The word giant can be applied to both the field itself, as well as the mind bogglingly tremendous pumpkins that lie therein. At the far edge of the field is a red brick farmhouse, and behind that is the standard red barn with white trim where you can go buy the pumpkins and the kids can go on a hayride.

You know, when I moved here, I said that it was like moving into a cliche of what small town America is supposed to look like. This is more than that. It's like someone painted a picture of a perfect Fall day and, upon seeing it, someone else decided to go ahead and implement it as if it was a blueprint. So for all my grousing about elections and illness and whatnot, each weekday for the next couple of month, I know I get to go on my morning drive and see everything that I love about this season.

It's not a bad way to start a day.