A Picnic Beneath Nature’s Autumn Symphony

We’ve arrived at our charming local park for our annual Autumn picnic. Nature’s paintbrush has swept vibrant oranges, greens, reds, and golds across the canvas of trees. The leaves, freshly fallen in shades of gold and vibrant red, give a colorful contrast to the grass, which bears the marks of summer’s hot embrace.

The crisp Autumn breeze tenderly caresses my bare arms, as gentle as a feather’s touch. In its embrace, I catch the pleasing scents of maple, damp wood, and a smoky scent that brings to mind cherished bonfires and roasting marshmallows with loved ones. These fragrant notes only add to my excitement about sharing this moment with Henry.

As we walk through the park, searching for the perfect spot for our Autumn picnic, I reach into my tote bag and retrieve my warm, rust-colored wool sweater. Its soft knitted texture enfolds me like a warm embrace from a cherished family member. The changing season has arrived, bringing in the glory of brisk days and a painter’s palette of brilliant colors, painting a vivid tapestry all around us.

As we wandered through the enchanting nooks and crannies of the forested park, we chance upon an old stone decorated with an array of pumpkins and gourds. The stone fence, its rough-hewn gray and slate-blue stones piled upon one another, narrates a tale of unwavering resilience, echoing a sense of historical significance.

The pumpkins, brushed in hues of rustic orange with fine traces of cadmium yellow, adding to the vividness of the autumn scene. Their gnarled, brownish-gray stems playfully brought to mind the likeness of a witch’s nose.

Two gourds huddled nearby, mirroring quiet specters with their hook-like witch’s hat and chameleon-like shades of sap green and salmon red. It seemed as though they couldn’t quite decide which color to embrace, adding an intriguing touch of uncertainty to the impending Halloween season.

We laid our fleece camel hair blanket on the cool, damp grass, and as we settled in, the surprising presence of forgotten acorns emerged like a whimsical game of Whack a Mole. Kneeling down, we began to unveil our delightful treasures for our Autumn picnic.

First, we revealed the salty popcorn, generously drizzled with sticky, sweet caramel. Henry poured this tempting combination into our cherished red bowl, a symbol of countless family game nights and savory indulgences.

Next, we removed the plastic tops from our Pumpkin Spice lattes and were instantly greeted by the enticing aromas of pumpkin, cinnamon, and nutmeg. The whipped cream with its caramel drizzle had begun to melt, but this only heightened the fragrance of this warm, sweet confection, causing our mouths to water with anticipation.

Henry reached into our tote bag and retrieved the McIntosh apple, a fruit so synonymous with Fall, and skillfully began to slice it with his father’s cherished switchblade, another family heirloom. He divided the apple into pieces for us to share.

I took my slice and dipped it into the sweet caramel drizzle from the Pumpkin Spice latte. The combination of the sweet, milky caramel with the tangy apple serenaded my taste buds. I indulged greedily, savoring slice after slice.

We lounged together, relishing these moments of simple presence amidst the vibrant canvas of nature at its finest. Adding to the beauty of this Autumn scene was the harmonious symphony of nature itself. Each element played its part in this full orchestra of Autumn’s symphony — the leaves rustling in unison, the gentle pop of acorns meeting the ground, squirrels and chipmunks frolicking up and down the trees like skilled guitarists, and the birds taking their solos — enveloped us like a warm motherly embrace.

As our picnic began to wind down, much like an old wind-up clock, the temperatures started to dip, and the once royal blue sky transformed into a fresh canvas of purples, reds, and golden yellows. Mother Nature seemed to wield a new paintbrush, gently stroking the sky’s horizon with each warm color, a striking contrast to the growing chill in the air. The smoky bonfire gained strength, resembling a smoke machine at a Halloween party. The leaves picked up their rhythm, playfully dancing with the wind in a whirlwind of excitement.

Henry and I gazed into each other’s eyes over the remnants of our picnic. In that silent exchange, our eyes spoke volumes. They conveyed the message: ‘Let’s embrace whatever changes lie ahead and savor every moment of the journey.’

This story was previously published on Medium.