"But then fall comes, kicking summer out on it's treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed.
It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since the last time he saw you."
~Stephen King, Salem's Lot
I was amazed that while it was a very warm sunny day, when I stood in the shadow of the tree the whole world seemed eerily dark. My camera saw it too. It wasn't just the shadow, it was a deep feeling inside me, that in the shadow exists some parallel world we mortals move in and out of without consequence, or knowledge that we had left out own universe. In the moment I was standing in the shadow, it seemed that the only real light came from the crimson red and deep purple leaves, giving the impression that they weren't leaves at all, but rather something so beautiful, so singularly unique, that they bordered not on the natural color one would expect on the first day of the autumnal equinox, but rather on the supernatural. The slight chill I felt that day, made me feel like on any given late September day, but especially this one, I was merely one glance, or one shadow, away from finding myself in a Stephen King novel. And with that thought I smiled, because surely I could conquer the shadowy presence, and besides, that's what happens when one stares at autumn leaves too long. The imagination wanders... and wonders.
Shadows have a different presence in autumn.
"He thrusts his fists against the posts,
and still insists he sees the ghosts."
~Stephen King, It