On Monday I went for a hike with my dad in the Gatineau hills – a beautiful region across the water from Ottawa, in Quebec, where Fall is its most spectacular. Often visitors to Ottawa specifically come during this time of year to see the changing leaves.
The colour change feels like it has come early this year. I may be wrong, and it just feels like Winter is faster approaching, but it does seem like Fall has shown its colours a little earlier this year. So my dad and I thought Monday that we were catching the leaves just in time, at their peak, but actually, we may have been a week late. A lot of the reds had dimmed into the more subdued yellowy brown tones of late Fall. And the ground was full of layer upon layer of fallen finery.
I resisted the urge to collect the prettiest ones, knowing that I had pages and books filled with dried, forgotten leaves. They are just too beautiful and magical to leave behind. But every year it is the same again, and I don’t have to try and capture it, nor should I try – Fall’s majesty will be there for all to see again next year.