There are surely few things that are quite as fine as a brilliant, late Fall afternoon.
In New England.
Coming back from Greenwich yesterday, we diverted…
…just a side trip but what a treat!
Small farms and ponds tucked into gentle hills
How had we not been here before?
Only minutes from home!
A world of bucolic splendour.
“Look Daisy, tourists!”
How could one ever explain the sheer joy of Fall to a blind child?
What a privilege is sight!
Could one associate colours with a particular texture?
Orange would be something warm, chenille perhaps?
How to explain light and dark?
Hot and cold fluid, perhaps…
…then how to describe dappled sunlight?
Perhaps warm spray from a shower head?
How to convey the feeling of pursuing a narrow country lane through golden woods?
The anticipation of what lies ahead?
How to explain the canopy, far above?
and the carpet below?
How could one describe the intermingling of colours and textures on a sunlit hill?
Now I think taste must be employed.
Honey. I think honey must be the taste of Fall.
Once, a long time ago, I had a chance to learn what it is to be blind. I was aboard a ship in Antarctica and completely wrapped in my own experience.
There was a young blind woman on that cruise with her husband. They were birders. I believe those two may have got more from that cruise than any of us that were sighted.
How much could I have learned by talking to that couple?
But I was far too shy, far too afraid of offending.
The trees around my house have shed almost all their leaves, but for one that clings to it’s bright yellow crown.
Just over the hill, though, it’s a different scene.
We followed a narrow road…
…and suddenly arrived at someone’s farm…
…where a peacock came to greet us!
It wasn’t posted as a private road and we did not want to trespass, so we quickly turned around as the peacock strutted and I was given no chance of a decent photograph of the beautiful bird.
Peacocks are good guard animals and they help control insects and rodents.
Perhaps we should acquire one.
Wouldn’t that give the cats pause!
We toodled back down our golden pathway
enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun and the very slight chill behind it.
Before we got home, there were a few more lovely sights which I will save for now and I’ll leave you with the waning moon…
Thank you, Carolyn, for your musing and spectacular photos, especially of the moon!
Joanna
I rejoice in the autumn splendor. A wonderful colorful Fall.
I really enjoyed your musings and speculations on how to explain the various aspects of Autumn to a blind person. I believe that some blind people develop a sense of what can be likened to radar. They are able to distinguish proximity and textures by a combination of sound, particularly echoes, and air pressure. Try feeling leaves at different times of year, and in different weather conditions, with your eyes closed. It really is enlightening.
Yes! The other senses become more developed. The possibilities are there for all of us, I guess but we have become so detached from Nature, we do not “need” them. This year has been different….everything has grown more, there have been more insects (ladybirds now) and this Fall amazing. I keep wondering if Nature is telling us something.
I hope nature is saying “I’m getting on with it no matter what you try to do.”
Today I was in the mid-Hudson valley – Rhinebeck – and looks like parts are at peak. Putnam and below – not so much.
Yes. It can vary so much within just a few miles.
Thanks for sharing these beautiful landscapes.
Can’t believe you have not showed this beautiful road to us before – there’s so many lovely views! You ask a very valid question about how to explain a landscape to a blind person – and I like your answers to them. Autumn is definitely the taste of honey!