The hullabaloo about the trees

For decades I have been mystified by the yammering of folks who do go on about fall colors.

Sure, I remember my native stomping grounds. There were always yellow delicious patches on mountain sides where gilded aspen leaves bravely fluttered for a final 2 or 3 weeks before crashing down to end as a scratchy brown carpet. But it was only ever yellow. Here, sycamores and oaks skip the yellowing part and just dump the dried-out leaves in the gutter. I swear it happens overnight. Wednesday - leafy green trees, Thursday - naked brown trees. Fall color is a marketing campaign, not a big deal. People are dumb.

You could say I was completely unprepared for the riotous shades of nature's last gasp. I spent a good 45 minutes on my belly in the middle of the Princeton battlefield, transfixed by thick stands of trees red, orange, and green all at the same time. I get it now. I'll try to keep the yammering down to a dull roar.