Metaphors

I went camping this weekend, and Fall was there. In the crimson strokes on the poison oak, in the falling leaves, in the crisp air. The first day was clear and sunny and perfect for a hike over the changing landscapes of the Coastal Range.  On the second morning, we awoke to trees draped in mist like lace,* brides to the changing season, and were stilled, reverent.

There will be pictures soon.

In the meantime, and while we are in the mood to greet Fall with quiet and nostalgia, please go see and do this interactive video by Arcade Fire, The Wilderness Downtown. Discovered here.

You must use Google Chrome, and I suggest minimizing all windows but that one for the full effect. Let them dance for you, like Salome and her veils.

*Incidentally, I have had a hard time coming up with a better descriptor than the old standbys “shrouded in mist” and “veiled in mist.” They just seem more accurate than anything else. “Mist” is right; it was mist not fog. And though the mist turned a slow dance, like Salome and her veils, the trees were so still as to forbid a metaphor of their dancing. Same for swimming. “Enrobed,” perhaps, or “swathed;” “mist hushing the trees in a lullaby.” “Mist pouring over the trees as the ocean pours over a drowned man,” “like a baptism,” “like water from a baptismal font.” 




(tree picture from www.thewildernessdowntown.com)