Storms

It's trying to be autumn in Southern California. For the first time in a couple weeks I was able to venture outside comfortably in a sweater and hear the sound of feet crunching dry leaves in the gutter. I like the change, but it's miniscule.

I remember driving up to Ohio one September about ten years ago to see the burial of my great-aunt in her childhood home. The trip was largely uneventful, a good opportunity to say my last goodbyes to an aunt I barely knew, and to get away for a bit with my mother. We drove through the Appalachian Mountains, and while I remember very little of the actual drive up, I remember the colors. The autumn leaves in western North Carolina and Virginia were the most beautiful I've ever seen in my life. At one point we drove up a mountain out in the boonies, going around and around the tight curves until we got to the top, where we were greeted with the most beautiful sight--a sea of treetops, and a variety of color that I've not seen since.

It was glorious and I miss it so much. Southern California has its perks, but I prefer the forest to the beach, and while it's nice to see mountains in the distance, it's also nice to drive through country roads and see the trees go from lush and green to orange, yellow, and brown, then bare sticks waving in the wind.

I think it's time to leave.