Thursday, October 1, 2026
Looking out the kitchen window, a sudden surprise filled my eyes: the sky, bold and bare, was emptied of maple, black locust and cherry tree leaves. All that light! All that bright blue revealed a world beyond a thick, enclosing curtain of leaves, now gone to ground.
It’s an odd trade: the loveliness of leaves for the open space of infinity.
This should not have been a surprise. It is, after all, late November. The view out every window has been changing for two months or more. We’ve watched some trees shed all their leaves in a single week while others lingered, morphing slowly through multiple color changes on the long goodbye to another year.
No matter how much we think we’ve been paying attention, we miss a lot. Then there are these moments of surprise when we realize that time has been passing in the world outside our windows when we weren’t looking.
And no matter what age we are, we are a year older than we were the last time the leaves fell and left the branches bare and the sky visible between them. And it’s a pretty safe bet that we’ll experience a similar surprise one day next fall too.
How much of these seasonal changes we notice is a measure of how fully alive we are. Maybe it’s also a measure of how much time we spend outside, how many trees we climbed when we were kids, or whether we ever studied botany, biology or theology.
There is always more to see, more to smell, more that runs, flies or swims so fast we only get a glimpse. And since most of us are pretty ignorant and low-tech, there’s always more so small or so large and far away we’d need microscopes or telescopes to even know what’s there.
Still, the effort of curious, thoughtful observation is always rewarded. In the last few weeks, I’ve been examining fallen leaves, paying attention to their shapes and colors, and to whether the leaves from each species fall quickly in a few days, or slowly, lingering for weeks.
I am kind of in love right now with the kaleidoscope on the ground as the trail passes beneath so many species of trees and shrubs shedding so many shades of beautiful. I’ve enlisted my artistic granddaughter into pressing leaves and creating a collage.
This won’t make either of us experts, but that’s not the point. The point is gratitude for our shared enjoyment of natural beauty and diversity. That just fills us up with warmth and wonder.
I suspect that we schedule Thanksgiving not because of some myth about a meal Indians and Puritan settlers ate, but because the spectacular beauty of fall — and a season of harvest — just naturally turn our minds toward gratitude and giving thanks.
So I just need to say: I’m grateful for JOLT readers, donors, and of course our editor and publisher. I wish you all many years of happy Thanksgiving holidays, and all the days between them.
9 comments on this item Please log in to comment by clicking here
KatAshe
What I love most, after the leaves have fallen, is being able to see where birds have nested.
Friday, November 21, 2025 Report this
kungalegdze
I so enjoy your column, Jill. Thank you for sharing your perspectives on the beauty of fall, the infinity of the sky, the pressing of leaves with your granddaughter, and the results of your curious and thoughtful observations. I look forward to reading them every week.
Friday, November 21, 2025 Report this
DonnaH
What is the process to pressing the leaves? I am trying to put them between paper towels and under heavy books. I think they will end up being moldy, though.
Saturday, November 22, 2025 Report this
SheriB
Just chiming in to say that I enjoy your column very much, as well. It has opened my eyes to much more detail. Thank you!
Saturday, November 22, 2025 Report this
Virge13
I’ve been noticing the trees more this year. How they cling to their color and beauty even after storms. It’s a comment on life isn’t it?
Saturday, November 22, 2025 Report this
Gretchen
There are 4 or 5 sweet gums on 5th avenue by the lake that all turn different shades of purple, red and yellow. When their leaves fall, it is a kaleidoscope of colors!
Saturday, November 22, 2025 Report this
Lee Doyle
Thanks, Jill, for commemorating the beauty of leaves marking the passage of time. The patio maple provided an exciting movement of rich green, flaming red, to burnt amber. I look forward to welcoming next year's unfurling of new visions.
Saturday, November 22, 2025 Report this
Anniecubberly
Thanks Jill. I ove the kalidescope of leaves too.
Saturday, November 22, 2025 Report this
turtleman
Alternative title could be Goodbye Leaves, Hello Neighbors. That's the story in my backyard.
Saturday, November 22, 2025 Report this