Transition

We awoke to a strong wind this morning, heralding a transition to a new season.  We could hear it sifting through the crack of the bedroom windows, and something loud clattered sharply on a roof somewhere (I could find no damage on our property, and wondered about our neighbor's metal roof). 
I sat on the deck to drink my coffee, and the wind was making that deep, low whining sound all around that it often makes in this valley.  Leaves were swirling down from the tall tulip poplar out front, and suddenly a small maple leaf fell into my coffee - a little orange tea-bag that I carefully removed.  High clouds were moving briskly west to east, and the treetops were swaying wildly back and forth.  The world seemed to be spinning wildly into another season.

What a change from only two days ago!  Those maples next to the Presbyterian Church on Fifth Street are now completely stripped of leaves. 

I walked up to the top of Sunset Rocks again today, hoping to avoid the snarl of traffic in Town, only to find myself being passed along the road by three or four cars, Lexus and Cadillac SUVs.  I stepped reluctantly out of the way, but when I reached the top I excused the traffic; coming down form the rocks I encountered a tiny, tiny little hiker, perhaps only 9 or 10 months old, an elder on each side of him more or less floating him over the rocks, laughing and enjoying perhaps his very first hike.  It was a great day to be outdoors, whether walking or driving.

The view from the top was especially beautiful - the turbulent sky off to the west, the side that we properly call "Sunset."

The other side, "Sunrise," is not as well-known and is sometimes overlooked.  Horse Cove seemed quiet and peaceful, its green fields far from the bustle of downtown Highlands - two sides of a coin.

And so we transition from October to November, and I dig on the laundry-room shelf for my gloves and warmer shirt in preparation for tomorrow's run when the temperatures is predicted to drop from the unseasonably 70s and even 80s of this week to a sharp 34 degrees.  I am ready for it.

Fall Color

After a late start, the Fall color is finally reaching Highlands, creeping up the sides of the mountains from greens into yellows into reds.  It has been unusually warm - the warmest October I remember since living here - and there has only been one light frost so far in Town (last Wednesday).   We are also in a drought, which at the ower elevations is making leaves turn brown and simply drop off early.  But up here on the Highlands Plateau there is spectacular color here and there - the maples on Fifth Street are stunning, and the burning bush on Smallwood Avenue is a hedge of fire.

"Beautiful day," visitors will say as we pass them on morning runs.  I told someone the other day, "Absolutely!  We wait all year for conditions like these!"  A breeze springs up and suddenly there is a shower of golden leaves coming down all around.  Bright, clear blue sky for days and days.  Surely there is no better season for running than this, or for simply walking as I did this afternoon, up Sunset Rocks.  The color is just at its peak now, and it won't last long.

Autumn Breeze

Martha has run this early-October race in the Tallulah Gorge twice, if I remember correctly, but I had never run it before today.  I always seemed to be nearing the end of a marathon training program this time of year, with a 20-mile run the day before, and remember standing at the finish line taking her photo and feeling a little rueful not to be enjoying what she described as the most beautiful course she has ever run.  But there will be no marathon this year, and it was a fine day, leaves just starting to turn, temperatures in the low 70s and a little cloud cover, too - just perfect conditions.  The setting is indeed gorgeous, and the course follows the shore of Tallulah Lake and then a paved Greenway through the woods.

These days I am running according to that aging runner's dictum, "The older I get, the faster I was."  Slowed by the uneven path and its branches under the pavement, I ran a minute or so slower than expected (but still faster than my last race) and more importantly I felt strong all the way through the 5 kilometers, a first this year, I think.  It is indeed a good feeling to improve after an injury, to feel strength returning, as I have recorded in the pages of this blog.

While I passed a few younger runners (always a satisfying experience at my age!), I could not catch several others, including an amazing little boy who had no legs - no legs! - who was propelling himself forward by swinging rhythmically side by side on a little three-wheeled platform, pushed up the hills by his Dad who was running with him - truly incredible!  And as I neared the finish, I heard the sound of runners coming up behind me on both sides, left and right, and although I held on gamely I could not fend off two younger runners catching me at the line.  Martha took this classic photo:

"We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven;

That which we are, we are." - Tennyson