A Walk Into the Fog (Final)

Looking out into the morning fog I see nothing at all, knowing what is beyond the gray haze I simply walk the thin, slightly uphill, blazed trail, beginning my morning. As I continue on my way and wait for the fog to disappear I realize I have reached my beautiful destination. I am high up on a rural bluff, above everything I know, above the large trees, above the small vibrant town, above the red brick school, above my white colonial house. Nothing matters but what I am waiting to see. Now I am met with vibrant colors, first a construction grade orange, then bumble bee yellow, and lastly a burning red. As these explosions appear from every direction the mother of all rises to its peak; a blazing sun greets me burning off whatever is left of the fog. This is Autumn and I am experiencing a well known discovery of New England. Later in the morning as I begin my casual return down the slight incline, the fog has died and dried. A flock of geese fly overhead quacking as they head to warmer weather. I am left with a cushion of crunchy leaves to lead me back to my starting point. An average morning for one who takes the time to enjoy the wonders of a season that is often over-looked.