Fallen Foliage.

Translated from the Czech language, the name November means Leaf-fall. How true this description rings indeed, as it is in the eleventh month that our trees loose their precious leafy possessions.

Thus everywhere I look, beautifully dyed leaves lie in heaps, in a stunning contrast to the evergreen of the grass or the black of the asphalt, garnishing the ground. While I walk or take a drive, I love to watch the wind play with these copper and golden remains of foliage. Almost as unseen sweepers, the wind gusts pick the leafy leftovers off the ground in colourful whirlpools, like discarded remains of party confetti, long after the celebration has ended. Moving them across the sidewalks and roads, creating a feeling of enchantment, but simultaneously - a certain sense of sorrow. One that can be perceived upon a conclusion of something brilliant...

To me fallen leaves are stunningly beautiful. They continue to create abstract masterpieces of art, while - and long after - the painted landscape slowly turns foggy and grey.
Momentarily, there is nothing more alluring then the rustling of the foliage beneath my feet, as I take late autumn walks on misty days, while the air grows saturated with dampness and the scent of wood burning fires.