A Matter Of Perspective

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I slid open the drapes that concealed the doors to the deck and looked out at what I termed a sorry excuse for a morning. It was ugly. A fog hung in the air only adding to the gloom. It had rained overnight and looked like it could again. The yard was covered with oak and aspen leaves that would need to be cleaned up and underneath them, I knew there was still hundreds of acorns that needed to be dealt with. Depressing. That’s what it was. Not one redeeming factor within view. Fall, taking advantage of a dying summer, was descending, destroying all that we had coveted over the past several months. I turned away, welcoming the bright light of the kitchen.

I had been in a pretty good mood before viewing the world beyond my door. Now I just felt isolated, tolerating instead of enjoying my day. Funny, I thought, how the whims of Mother Nature can affect me so easily. Psychologically transforming my opinion of my environment and altering my mood. That is, of course, if I let her. It occurred to me that what she presented and how I saw it were two very different things. What I saw of course was a given. A reality. But what I thought about it was totally up to me. So, I walked back to the door and looked again.

What I saw this time was the fog hanging low over the trees as the sun struggled to begin another day, still rubbing its eyes. Trees that just yesterday had been bright with green leaves were now shrugging into coats of yellow and red. Some, anxious for fall to begin, and encouraged by the rain, were slowly drifting to the ground, creating a brilliant kaleidoscope of color, covering the browning grass. A squirrel skittered across my deck, oblivious to my presence, intent on selecting only the very best acorns for his harvest. I remembered how, as a child, I loved to play in the leaves, jumping into piles and rolling around with abandon. I remembered the smell of burning leaves, swept to the curb. I knew pumpkins and cider were not far behind. And, I gave a second thought to the beauty that dwelled just beyond my door and felt heartened by the rebirth of the season, entertaining me with its opening act .

I again turned away, but this time with a different perspective. My day, my season, my world was going to be exactly what I chose to make it. Yup. It’s going to be another beautiful day because I say so.

About oldmainer

I am a retired manager living in Southern Maine and a would be writer of poetry, narratives, short stories, and random opinions. While I tell myself that I write for my own pleasure, I in fact write for yours. As such, I hope that I put to paper a few scribblings that you might enjoy. If so, feel free to use them, but please honor the terms of my copyright when and if you do. They may not be much, but they are still a piece of me. I appreciate your checking me out and hope that you find something that will encourage a return visit. Thanks for stopping by.
This entry was posted in Autumn, Beauty, Color, Fall, Home, Life, Maine, Nature, Perspective, Reflection, Seasons, Trees and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to A Matter Of Perspective

  1. quiall says:

    Perspective can change in an instant if you want it to. Excellent post.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Paul says:

    To quote Ben Santoro, “PERSPETIVE IS REALITY”…..

    Like

  3. pchj@twc.com says:

    Liked this one very much, chek out my response, think you will remember…

    Sent from Mail for Windows 10

    Like

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