There's an old country saying that "autumn goes floating down-river." The adage is often used metaphorically to reflect on the swift and steady passage from the bright patchwork of colorful leaves to a landscape stark and skeletal. And it regularly proves true—time does seem to speed up once the leaves have taken on their carnival hues. Early-October rushes past and suddenly it's already mid-November, the leaves are down, Thanksgiving is just around the corner…with winter and Christmas soon to follow.
How could this have happened so quickly? In part because the old expression is not only metaphoric truth, but a quite literal description of natural fact—as anyone who lives alongside a river or creek quickly learns.
Every morning, I start my day off with a look upstream and down. Once autumn hits its peak, every first look finds a bit less color, a tad fewer leaves still clinging to the trees, with a more open view through the thickets and canopy of the bankside woodlands. Then, if I look at the surface of the river, I'll see an endless stream of leaves being carried along with the current.
Autumn floating down-river.