When the trees cast off their cloaks of golden-red leaves, when the pretty flowers  curl up and transform into dry brown husks, the world changes. In place of the joyous greenery of the summertime months, a more sombre landscape meets our eyes. Autumn - like a beautiful woman, who has grown older, has a mature loveliness of its own. In a way it is fitting, for it somehow provides symmetry and shape to the bewildering passage of time. It seems somehow 'right', but with a bittersweet sadness that speaks of irrevocable and irreversible change. The French have a lovely word for this feeling of gentle melancholy, it is - 'Tristesse.'
|
