Back in Texas, leaves either grow with a single solid hue or shrivel up and die. Not so much here in South Korea. I can now place a thorough mental description to the meaning of the word autumn.
I was told that Korea is all about extremities. Cleanliness, drunkenness, fashion, hobby attire, and even the weather joined in on the extreme action. Fall cooled the country off and magically sprinkled a fresh breeze and new colors into the air. Everything morphed. The leaves took on every possible shade of brown, the evening sky was golden, the sun sunk fat in the sky with a rosy face. Even the autumn air smelled different. Fresh and full. Fall's presence left no evidence of Summer's visit.
But as lovely as fall was, it was only a temporary stay. It came as quickly as it went. Late in November, I was walking home from school. The wind suddenly picked up, the temperature dropped, and a small cloud perked its head from the sky. Then a very strange thing happened that made me realize that fall was soon to vanish from me. The walking signal at an intersection turned red, and suddenly the air filled with snow. Children began hopping, dancing, twirling around, couples drew themselves closer to each other, people all around stopped to smile. It was a two minute moment of magical bliss with white flakes whizzing all about me. Then the light turned green and everything STOPPED. As if it never occurred. Everybody went back to their normal pace in life, the snow vanished from the sky, and the cloud disappeared. I walked across the street, looked back to find tiny puddles from where the snow had fallen. I think it may have been just a daydream. Fall kept on falling without a hint of snow for another couple of weeks.
No comments:
Post a Comment