I stepped out for a late afternoon walk on the roads of Short Hills, just after the land had been laid under a six-inch white carpet of snow. Overnight, the world had been quietly rewritten. Familiar streets, hedges, mailboxes, roofs, and lawns had surrendered their individual identities and merged into a single, dazzling expanse ofContinue reading “A Brief Tryst with Snow”
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Maple: The Flame of Autumn
Not to speak of maples when the world of trees is considered would be a serious omission. But not to speak of them in autumn would be nothing short of a sacrilege. There are trees that announce themselves with grandeur, others that shelter us in silence, and yet a few that live in memory because of a single,Continue reading “Maple: The Flame of Autumn”
Feathers in the Falling Light — Part II
Birds of Short Hills In the Quiet Days of Late Autumn Morning in late October arrive softly beginning to wear its winter hush. The air thins, the light sharpens, and the woods grow spare. What was once a chorus has become a quiet ensemble — fewer voices, but each one distinct, resonant, enduring. The leaves that remainContinue reading “Feathers in the Falling Light — Part II”
The Radiance of Fall
On Beauty, Transience, and the Grace of Letting Go Each morning and evening, as I walk through the quiet streets of Short Hills (New Jersey), I am met by an astonishing theatre of transformation. The maples that only weeks ago stood in tranquil green now burn in gold, in orange, in impossible crimson. Every dayContinue reading “The Radiance of Fall”
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