As a person who grew up in New England, I have to admit that I am pretty demanding when it comes to rating fall foliage and don’t just go “Oooh!” and “Aaah!” before any ordinary boot brown leaf. In Madrid, the autumn seems to come and go without much to say. Sure, the trees turn color and all, but just because a leaf ceases to be green doesn’t necessarily mean I am going to engage in a photo shoot for three hours. In my humble common man’s understanding of the nature of nature, I think this has to do with the climate. Fall isn’t the kind of season that makes a regular appearance year and year out. It can last anywhere from a couple of months to a couple of hours. Sometimes the summer kind of lingers until a blast of cold air roars through turning the lime green branches into a set of dark brown lifeless limbs. It’s not that they don’t possess their own kind of beauty – their subtleness can be impressive – it’s just that they don’t overwhelm you.
This year, though, seems to be one of the finest I can recall. The trees have pulled out an entire arsenal of tones and hues and the city looks great. And, if my theory is right, it must have something to do with the fact that the cooler arrived earlier and more gradually. Today it is supposed to snow, so I doubt if it will last long. But it has been a pleasure while it lasted.