In Autumn

Where did the summer go? 
Wasn’t it just yesterday when those first blades of green had us dreaming of the long, warm days of summer? This year, of course, the season was more than we hoped it would be, and the heat had us holed up for most of it. And now, autumn is here and soon will be gone. ‘Round we go.  

But my friend Hannah and I decided we would make the most of it, get out in the woods and let those last colors soak in before they were gone and we had to face the barren winter. And the colors were vivid. The weather was mild and the light bright on the day we headed for Castlewood. Hannah had a few of her favorite places she wanted me to see. 

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Castlewood State Park, which runs along
both sides of the Meramec River, was once part of a large resort area. During the first half of the last century St. Louisans, by the thousands, would arrive
by train for weekends of summer and to escape the city heat. There were hotels, cabins, dance clubs and a community of people that played in and along the river. The establishments included the Castlewood Hotel which later gave the park its name. From its perch on the bluff a grand staircase was built spilling down through the trees to the river. The staircase is all that remains of those
days except for the trees, the hills and the river below.

Again, I felt blessed, this time to have made it to the top, to be experiencing the autumn of the year in the autumn of my years, looking out over it in context of where we had come from and not lost in the trees but above them, able to see the lay of the land from a greater vantage point and so able and determined to appreciate it, and for all it’s worth. It made me happy to come so far. And I felt that the climb, the work, was all a part of what made the view so beautiful.

But still before me was the descent and then another mile or so to the end. The trip down appeared ominous, but I knew it wasn’t as scary as it looked.  The
steps down compared to the trail up, were easy, and I was not so focused on getting somewhere, but content to enjoy the journey. The world around was colorful; the light through the leaves made the whole woods glow. It looked to me, like an enchanted forest, or perhaps I was simply enchanted by it.

And across the path, stretched out towards the light and water like any self-respecting sycamore, was Hannah’s “favorite” tree. And now we came to the point where youth and age part, for while I was content to contemplate the size and beauty of it, Hannah had to climb it.  I went with her vicariously. I think, we get pretty good at that, as we get older.

Or perhaps she inspired me because shortly thereafter I stepped up into the crook of a nearby tree, so Hannah could take my picture.

She was rather slow on the draw, however, and before she could take it, I fell out of tree. I guess it is a good thing I was only 3 feet off the ground at the time. Fortunately, I didn’t break a hip or anything… And I am yet young enough that for pride’s sake I stepped back up
there, or perhaps for adventure’s sake, to have the gall.
I guess adventure is a relative thing, especially in the autumn of my years.

And winter awaits.
 

And so we set off on the River Scene Trail. 
Hannah is young, and I feel privileged to tag along, even more blessed that I can keep up with her, well, almost. The trail was steep right from the start, but we made steady progress. 
The River Scene Trail is about a mile and a half to the overlook at the top.  All along the way there are outcroppings of rock and views of the glorious vista, each with a more spectacular scene than the one before. The chameleon river below changed from blue to green with each turn and shimmered where sun and water collided in the swift current. The Crescent Hills in the distance covered in the colors of autumn made russet and green waves forever, and the railroad tracks running alongside the river sent the sound of trains up the bluffs from time to time, an echo of the past. It was magnificent.

On route, to the river, we passed that grand staircase.  It was concrete with wide, long steps,
and I tried to imagine all those summer guests coming and going, living and laughing and gone. And so were we from the heights from which we came and now walking the soft muddy path in the lowlands along the river.