The Post that wasn't Funny

When the lush green mountains of South Tyrol transform into Fruity Pebbles in the fall, hikers speed south with their cameras to eternalize this beauty. Last weekend, I did the same. From Munich to Merano in about three hours. The International Merano Wine Festival was also a pull.

(Caution. This blog post will wax personal. If you’re not a curious person by nature, you might want to read some of my past posts. If you’re stalking me, you’re going to love this.)

Still here? I knew you would be. It won’t get that juicy, and I’m afraid it’s not going to be humorous. Fall isn’t humorous, is it? That would be spring.

My head—cluttered with work responsibilities I’ve put off too long, construction on the house, doing my taxes, studying for my driving test, arguments with family, arguments with writers, my own writing projects—needed the fresh air of South Tyrol. Unfortunately, the fall colors sent my head right back to the worries I wanted to escape for a few days.

Those fall colors—the reds, yellows, golds and browns—only seem romantic because we know the tree isn’t dying. But those trees will die eventually, I thought. Goodness, I was down and going deeper. And so I just let myself think about suffering relationships and moldering projects as I stared at a hard copy of chapter 13 of my current project, trying to smooth out a bumpy transition.

When we arrived in Merano, I started snapping pictures. It was pretty, but we’d missed the perfect picture of fall by about a week: that moment when the trees are bushy with vibrant color against a blue sky and snow-peaked mountains.

By this time thoroughly depressed, I thought back to writerly and personal relationships that were once bushy and vibrant but that had since lost most of their leaves. And I wish I had a picture of those better moments to get me through this fall. Yes, a very personal observation, but I’ll broaden it. In all relationships, we go through times when we hold up the camera to take a picture and think “Hmm. Maybe we should wait and take a picture when our relationship looks better. Our relationship needs a haircut . . . bad.”

But the tree’s not dead yet. Call me silly and sentimental and adorable (if you must), but I know I can stand to be more generous with the people around me and dare to enjoy the fall.

OK, so there. I’ve written the blog post that wasn’t funny. The fall post. I can’t wait for snow.

I must be off,


  1. In a good way, or in a not-so-much way?

  2. It's hard to feel depressed with that view. I want grapes SO badly.

    Is it just me, or does reading left-justified text then right-justified text make one feel somewhat queasy?

    You silly and sentimental fool.

  3. I was trying to simulate the curvy roads in the mountains. :)


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