Rural Banter

Author: ERICA GOODMAN

If you don't know where you are, you don't know who you are. - Wendall Berry

The sun has (briefly) emerged after weeks of hiding dormant behind layers of rain and clouds.

A few maples and oak have maintained their colorful leaves but unfortunately, the peak of fall foliage has passed us by, washed away by the dreary days.

It is sad to think that the long-awaited period of luminous color will not return for another year.

And yet there is still a certain beauty in the transitory stage as we wait for snow to cover the lowlands.

Drive beyond the Middlebury College campus, past the grey-stone buildings and over the hill on Route 125.

About three miles west of town, the flooding of Otter Creek has created a temporary pond. Flooded fields halt tractor traversal: A headache for the farmer, an aquatic aesthetic for the Sunday driver.

With these fresh pools, we are offered a glimpse into a private window of Mother Nature.

Farm fields provide food in the form of waste grains and green grasses, attracting Canadian and snow geese that need to rest their weary wings in the flood's cool waters.

Although we know not their true destination, we are privy to a moment in their passage, experiencing a fragment of the journey on which they embark.

To the west of Middlebury are the Adirondack peaks and to the east the Green Mountains envelope the valley.

An early snow has left the tops covered with the beginnings of a long winter's snow. Bare deciduous trees, like silver needles stuck into the earth, point straight to the sky.

They line the roadways, serving as a barrier to the natural world. Only when driving by when the sun is just right are we allowed to see the kaleidoscope of light behind their slender trunks.

The fall has a particular scent as well. Dull browns blanket the landscape in their somber bereavement, the mourning over summer's passage and the vitality of greenery lost to sneaky midnight frosts.

This decomposition of fallen leaves and wilted flowers differs in scent from the perfume of springtime and yet it holds a peculiar aroma of freshness.

In the midst of autumn's decay, the sweet scent of damp leaves and biting breezes, we remember that life will emerge again.

There is nothing more humbling than to take time to witness nature's cycle of replenishment. The winds, the rains, the sun and the earth all hold the power to bring destruction.

And with enough patience, the land will return anew.