Autumn illuminates corners that were darkened with green at the height of summer. This one, surrounded by the leaping arms of a climbing hydrangea, would normally be devouring the sunlight on any given afternoon, swallowing it like some voracious black hole and giving none of it back. Now it is strikingly illuminated by morning and afternoon sun, reflected on the brilliant canary leaves of those up close and further back.
A corner lit by filtered sunlight is a shift from the summer and winter, and somehow more brilliant than both, surpassing even the chartreuse of early spring to give off a light that almost seems to come from within. It is a magical trick, made more enchanting by its fleeting nature. Soon the leaves will be pulled from their perches by wind and rain, and there will be nothing left to set aflame.
