Now you may be saying, “but those photos don’t look any different than other photos he’s posted this summer". Well, you're right! And although it was cool outside (60 degrees), I've written about earlier summer rides that were even colder.
So why was it that on this particular summer morning, all I could think about was fall?
Because here in New England, autumn isn't just a season, it's a phenomenon. It arrives in New England like a giant wave, barreling down from the forests of Maine to the lighthouse-dotted beaches of Connecticut in great swells of color. Our village greens, rocky shores, and rolling hills are all magically illuminated day-after-day by those impossibly bright leaves.
We talk about fall coming; we anticipate it. But most of all, we feel it. A brisk chill in the air is full of meaning as August fades into September.
I personally like the slightly post-peak foliage, just as the brightest yellows and reds turn to deep maroons and browns. It’s Nathaniel Hawthorne and Herman Melville kind of scenery (both New Englanders). Each turn in the road reveals something special, bringing everything closer together and more intimate.
Soon afterwards, freezing winds from the north will replace the fall colors, and the fishing boats will come in from the sea for the last time this season. But before then, there's some great bike riding to do...
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