8 September | leaves

8 September 2009

As I finished packing the last things, crammed just one more book into my backpack, I stopped and looked outside. Typical Denver weather for this summer—hot, cloudy, looking like rain. But the thing that stopped me was the rustling sound of leaves tumbling to the ground. The trees have begun to turn this week; I noticed a few driving through our neighborhood on the way home from changing dollars into pounds at the bank downtown. Kyle laughed at me when I called our local bank; I asked the teller, “can you change American dollars into Great British Pounds?” I could feel him smiling and laughing as that came out of my mouth. So I had to go downtown, wait in the special international line at the bank. 250 dollars equals 145 pounds. I felt ripped off.

Back to the leaves—I looked out the back window into the yard, where the massive jacaranda tree bloomed giant green leaves all summer, shading the hammock. The solar lights we installed don’t work in the summer; the leaves block them from charging up.  I thought about how when I get back, the tree will be bare and cold and the hammock likely piled with snow. I will miss the trees turning. The sunflowers in the front garden are already drooping dangerously low to the ground, and the pumpkins are almost ripe.

But I hear that the trees in the Lakes District will be beautiful in the fall, so I think I will be ok trading one Denver fall to see London’s. Roger told me that the light is different there—a certain slant, from being so far north. I think I will like that.