Fall Foliage on All-Saints Day

Today I am driving through Molise, which is a region of Italy about an hour south of Rome, Its capital is Campobasso, a town of about 65,000 inhabitants. Much like Abruzzo this is not one of the most populous regions; rather it is sprinkled with many small towns nestled on cliffs thousands of feet above the Autostrada. As I drive down a curvy two lane road, I am reminded how much natural beauty covers this country. Almost instantaneously we slipped from summer into a breathtaking fall season. Being from California, I have seldom experienced such a distinct passage of the seasons and I say with conviction that transitioning from summer into fall is the most drastic, both emotionally and environmentally. I use the word emotionally because it is a palatable feeling how the bustle of summer fades quietly into the solitude of winter. No more backyard BBQs, crowded beaches, chaotic day-long playdates with screaming kids, or traffic-jammed summer road trips. And, although October is still a ways from Christmas, I am already thinking about passing the dark hours indoors with my family or a good book. This time of year the meals I prepare are more elaborate and calorie rich, and the converations I have are with dear friends about issues that need time. The house constantly smells of cider, or hot chocolate and I only tolerate the softest clothes to warm my body from the cold air lurking outside. In short, my state of mind changes and I am a different person in November than I was in August. 

Like me, the land around me is in transformation. Just last week my drive to Teramo did not reveal a glimpse of snow on the peaks of Gran Sasso National Park, our local mountain range. And now the mountains appear to be full of snow, taunting me to shape up and hit the slopes. It was only a matter of days ago that the trees were full and green, now they turn golden before my eyes. The leaves give way with the smallest hint of a breeze and they are beginning to scuttle along the sidewalks keeping my company as I do my grocery shopping. Much to my surprise, even the grapevines turn yellow, orange and red - all simultaneously. 

In Molise, the trees are more akin to the East Coast of the U.S., with a lot of Oaks and other trees that are familiar to me. The peaks of the hills are exposed rock and steep, much different than the rolling green hills that make up Abruzzo. I surmise that the climate here is less humid than Abruzzo and therefore there is much less agriculture breaking up the natural landscape. I will say that the terrain reminds me more of the U.S. than Abruzzo, but its still a far cry from California. 

Today, All-Saints Day in Italy, is a day reserved for remembering and visiting the dead. In fact, the cemeteries are full and every tomb, even those dating back to the 1800s seem to have fresh flowers placed on them. It was a perfect day to get out of the ordinary routine and go out simply to observe and reflect. This season is one that naturally lends itself to that and I am thankful that I can ponder life and death in such a beautiful setting.