PlazaJen: Passion Knit

I've mentioned it before, and I have to say it again, this is absolutely the best time of year for my commute. Each day, the transformation of the trees that line Ward Parkway bring new changes, new colors, and very soon, the riot of color will explode, and then shortly thereafter, be gone.

In my mind, Mother Nature is the consummate striptease artist. And only in the classy sense, like a coy can-can dancer from the paintings of Toulouse-Lautrec. Her Fall dance starts out with a hint: just a slip strap, peeking out from her clothes, pressing in to a freckled shoulder. Then a glimpse of lace hem, creeping out from below, a shock of bright color drawing our eyes in. We hardly know where to focus, when will it all be unveiled? What will the ultimate palette of colors be? Will it take our breath away, anew? That is the mystery we anticipate, holding our breath. Once she is clad in her swirl of reds, golds, browns and oranges, we watch, transfixed, for we know, as all years before this have taught, we will blink before the music stops. And she will slip behind the back curtain and be gone.