Every fall as I watch the leaves begin to change and feel the coolness in the air, I remember it is time for the monarchs to migrate to the mountains of Mexico . A Journey that takes them up to 8,000 feet above sea level, and nearly two months to complete.
For more on them: migration of the monarch butterflies.
I watch, the leaves release and flutter down. Some taking flight on the wind, winding up, far away. Everything seems bare and fading.
In this painting I am trying to capture a moment: the autumn leaves tint fades, and they slip silently from the trees limbs grasp-only to magically turn into beautiful monarchs taking flight.
The four seasons- We are very similar to the leaves. Life closes a door and suddenly it feels like you are a free-falling leaf, tumbling along, scooped up in the wind, unsure, and tired. Time slows and you feel like the decaying matter of autumn, and just as cold as winter frosts. But spring comes, and the earth is renewed. Green blankets of grass spread outward. Roots begin take hold, growing. At last, the buds open, and the bloom emerges to a welcoming sun.
That got heavy metaphorically….moving on now.
October is the month of painted leaves. Their rich glow now flashes round the world. As fruits and leaves and the day itself acquire a bright tint just before they fall, so the year near its setting. October is its sunset sky; November the later twilight.autumnal tints by Henry David Thoreau (the atlantic monthly 1862)