This morning I drove down seven miles of country road. I was listening to someone's piano sonata on the radio -I do not know whose, but it was nice and light. I pulled over to watch two hawks doing a mating dance in the sky, and I marveled - absolutely marveled, at the autumn countryside.
Just what happened between yesterday and today?
Before I climbed into my car this morning, I got a phone call from that Spouse o' Mine, who was driving his 15 miles in to work. He just called me to remark on how pretty the countryside was this morning.
He got that right (AND: he's colorblind!)
The yellows are lemon and banana, and egg-yolk. The orangey-reds are persimmon and cherry. The leaves on the trees are amazing. No one around here was optimistic about fall foliage, given the months of heat and drought we experienced this spring and summer. We all just wanted to cry, "Uncle!"
As I crested one of the Flint Hills, the color of the south morning horizon was a tremendous purple, which suddenly met with a happy sky-blue.
Certainly: a watercolor morning.