Leaf-colored glasses

Challenges of life muted by fall’s splashy artwork

For the most part, I have the ability to find the dark cloud around every silver lining. It’s my super power. There are those who would call me pessimistic. Or, there are those who would argue I’m actually realistic. And there are those who might be related to me who would say I’m just a grouch.

But something happens at this point in the year that, at least for the moment, makes me feel a little better about things. Because …

The leaves are turning.

I don’t hear very well, and even I have noticed that my knees sound like a pair of maracas. OK, like a pair of maracas that got dropped down a flight of stairs, along with the rest of the percussion section and the family crystal.

That has been the case for a bit (in fact, my physicals often include the observation that my knees are making a lot of noise, but they do seem to have a nice rhythm.). However, first thing in the morning and at various times throughout the day, my back has decided to come in on the downbeat.

And my feet, while remaining largely silent, have elected to forgo their heretofore widely accepted role of not hurting when I walk. I mean, it’s a little late in the game for negotiating, don’t you think?

All this is to say that what doesn’t ache, pains. Or something like that. I’ve been told this “comes with the territory,” which leads me to question exactly what territory this is and why anyone would want to come here?

And yet, while I stand at my back door first thing in the morning and wonder if someone who was never the most upright of individuals is ever actually going to stand upright again, I feel a little bit better because…

The leaves are turning.

Far be it from me to pass judgment on effort or expertise, but I think even the most casual of observers would conclude the current University of Arkansas football season is fast becoming a grease fire thrown into and igniting a Dumpster, which is then pulled into the path of an oncoming train that smashes into it and pushes it onto the interstate, where it causes an 18-car pileup involving a cattle carrier.

Yeah, I think that captures the moment. Now, under most circumstances, the personal net-net of this would be a little trash can kicking, some sulking and expressions of the firm belief (loosely held) that we’ll get ’em next year.

However, many of us are vested to the point where we own tickets to the conflagration and therefore feel compelled to at least go roast some marshmallows. And we’re struck with the thought that, if ever there was a season to start selling beer at the games, this was it.

And yet, as I walk away from the stadium, secure in the knowledge that, as my father once said about another team in an another place, “well, at least they didn’t waste a good defense on that offense,” I’m not quite as down as I should be. Because …

The leaves are turning.

Winter is coming. This is not a promo for some sword-and-dragon extravaganza. Winter is, in fact, coming. Which means it will get cold, the wind will blow, my heating bill will climb, the sidewalk will be a skating rink and I’m going to generally be very grouchy until spring.

Bear in mind I hate cold weather. And I hate the incessant brown that settles in November and doesn’t go away until the first leaves in March. Which are then killed by the last freeze of the year.

And yet, as I drive to work in the morning, I think, well, that’s weeks away. And maybe it’s not so bad. Because …

The leaves are turning.

It seems fall in the Ozarks is our reward for putting up with summers that just won’t quit, that last little bit of celebration before the wind starts whipping out of Oklahoma, bringing air from the Arctic.

Increasingly it comes late, doesn’t last long and leaves us lots of photos on the phone and bags on the curb.

And yet, for those few weeks I find myself stopping at the oddest moments (though, thankfully, not in traffic) and just looking around. Whatever else is going on in the world, the world is all right.

Because the leaves are turning.