The autumn foliage in northwest Arkansas started out pretty poor this year. Maybe “pretty” isn’t the best adjective: not as good as years past, not even close to memories of New England foliage, way below what I remember from 25 years ago in North Carolina. The maples and other in-town trees just didn’t seem as pretty. Maybe it was the weather, or some kind of minor insect blight that kept the leaves from turning those nice fall colors.

I must describe a little for my readers outside of Arkansas. Our normal foliage here is not even close to as nice as other places. The locals ooh and aah over it, but it’s bland. Oh, in the towns it’s nice, where people have imported, planted, and cultivated non-native species that give color. But out in the country, in the hillsides above the farms, or where farmers haven’t cleared, we have mainly oak forests. Oak leaves in these parts turn brown. Dull. Drab. You see an occasional birch, or something in that family, that turns yellow, but it is rarely a brilliant yellow. You have some hickory or other fruit trees that turn nice. They are beautiful to look at, and stand out among the drab oaks.

I try to tell people that they should imagine that one nice tree among a thousand, and what the hillside would look like if every tree on it were that color. Then they would know what the New England foliage is like. Actually, in New England it’s a beautiful mix of colors, including some purple, and some evergreen trees among them. Just beautiful to look at at the right time, a mix of pastels and bolds.

The North Carolina foliage was different. When we lived in Bentonville, our neighbors had two large maple trees in the front yard that turned brilliant red, on fire. I told people to imagine driving the interstate and having both sides, every tree, just that color, mixed with an equal number of brilliant oranges. That’s the North Carolina at peak foliage.

However, one thing we have going for us in the towns in the Ozarks is a more strung-out foliage season. Not all trees turn at the same time. Even the maples, in their different species, turn at different times. The oaks in their drabness trail most of the others. The late maples this year trailed the oaks. The Bradford pears, which are one of the preferred landscaping trees because of their early blooms, seem to trail the others. So part of our problem is the trees don’t all turn close together. The colors, to whatever extent the trees give them, are spread out.

This year, the late turners have redeemed the foliage season, especially the late maples and the Bradford pears. They have been absolutely beautiful. Our commercial subdivision has beautiful, brilliant red maples on one side. Down every street in Bentonville and Bella Vista are lines of Bradford pears that are bright red mixed with orange, mixed with yellow, mixed with still green, all on the same tree. Beautiful. The oaks are brown as always, but as always the sun will catch those brown leaves and, for a brief time twice a day, make them appear an orange brown, and the oak hills turn beautiful.

Today it’s raining, and I can officially say we are past peak foliage. Many leaves will fall. The color when I go out in an hour to go to the doctor will be not near as nice as it was yesterday when I went out for a meeting. But for the last two weeks, when it was supposed to be after the peak, it was the most beautiful.

Which gives me hope for a late blooming writer. Perhaps words cobbled together in a season many would think is past-peak can be found worthy to educate, entertain, inspire, and add a little beauty to drab lives. I hope so.

Biographies are almost always a great read. In part that’s because they are of great people, men or women. Right now I’m reading a book titled Mr. Baruch. It’s a biography of Bernard Baruch, who was a Wall Street speculator of humble origins, who eventually became an adviser to Democratic presidents and politicians. I’m reading that book because I found it among books we put up for sale at my mother-in-law’s moving sale in January 2009. It was among many books I took from my dad’s house after his death, lots of which we intend to sell. The name was familiar, but if what he did was covered in my history classes, I slept through it. I’m close to 1/4 through this 610 page scholarly biography. My conclusion to date: Whatever his politics, Baruch was a great man, a man of accomplishment.

At the same time, in our adult Life Group classes, we are studying Charles Swindoll’s Joseph: A Man of Integrity and Forgiveness. It’s about the patriarch Joseph, and is a very good book. I’ll blog about it eventually, but meanwhile I highly recommend it as either a small group study or even as an individual read. Joseph was a great man of the Bible, a great man in history, a man of accomplishment.

Do you find biographies of great people motivating or deflating? I find them somewhat deflating myself. And, since biographies are only written about great—or notorious—people, most biographies tend to do that to me.

What have I accomplished in life? Unpublished, except for a few articles; lots of work at it, little results. Third string in high school football. Third man in the mile, but barely so. Never rose above third trumpet in band. A generalist civil engineer not really recognized as an expert in anything. A hack home maintainer, barely squeaking by without having to call out a repair man for each little thing. Heck, even most of the water damage we had this summer, which we are still cleaning up from, would have been minimized if I had made the right “diagnosis” of the problem and closed a valve that first evening.

Sorry for the pity party. I just find it all very deflating. Maybe I should quit reading biographies. I’ve actually written three short biographies. Well, two of them are unfinished. The third is of Lynda’s paternal great-grandfather: Seth Boynton Cheney: Mystery Man of the West. It’s “finished”, though whenever I run out of copies I always update it, adding newly found information, improving the illustrations and printing, etc. I have one copy left, so an upgrading will be coming soon. Of course, it’s only about 40 book-sized pages of text, 15 of illustrations and pictures, and 60 or so of genealogy tables and data. It probably doesn’t qualify as a real biography.

Well, I guess I’ll keep plugging at it. The desire to do something great is too strong to suppress. I’d turn all this good energy to weight loss instead, which would be an accomplishment. But this morning when I weighed in, after a weekend of working my tail off around the house and being reasonably good with my eating, I had gained four pounds since Friday. I guess I’ll need to go on my dad’s diet: water only, and that just to wash in.

Fall is in the air, as the saying goes, and this is my favorite time of year. There’s something about the transition in Autumn that appeals to me more than the transition in Spring. Since I tend to like colder temperatures more than hotter temperatures, perhaps it’s the anticipation of those cooler temperatures and actually feeling a little bit of it.

Why, you ask, if I like colder temperatures, did I sojourn in the Arabian deserts for five years, and now lived twenty-four years in the South? In truth I’ve found I can be happy in all temperatures, though I have my favorites.

Today has been a good day. Over the last several days at home I drafted an article for Suite101.com, on construction dispute mediation. In mediation on Monday; article written by Friday. Art imitates life, I guess you could say.

On The Writers’ View 2, a Yahoo e-mail loop I’m on, the current discussion is on excuses to doing what needs to be done in order to succeed as a writer. The answers are fear (both of failure and success), busyness, lack of skill, lack of industry contacts, etc., etc. Lots of excuses, none of them that should be made. The discussion leader had some poignant words for us, the great unpublished masses of writers: butt in chair, fingers on keyboard. And, on occasion, eyes in book.
So I have no excuses. I just need to get at it harder and get it done. Write articles. Work on my novel. Capture ideas in a retrievable way. Update my submissions log. Research the market. Submit some poems and short stories to literary magazines. Work on my Bible studies, especially the new one in research. Read to improve craft. Read to be inspired. Hobnob with writers (probably less than I’ve been doing on-line, more IRL). Get my weight down and my body better in tone. Finish the downstairs bathroom. Finish preparations for the new downstairs carpet. Trade some stocks.

The first of the month is always an occasion to begin anew, not quite as much as the first of the year, but still a time to focus on doing things better, smarter. One thing I’ve done better and smarter, at least I think so, is to finally come up with a writers diary of sorts.

I’ve tried journaling, and usually do that in fits and starts. I’ve tried weekly log sheets, with a little success, but usually set it aside after a while. In July I developed a monthly writing log. It’s just a table, 32 columns across and about 20 rows down, with lots of white space at the bottom. I use a row to identify a writing task (which will include whatever reading I’m doing), and check the day I worked on that task. I use footnotes when necessary to explain exactly what it was I did concerning that task. I’ve used this log for three months now, and like it. Here’s to many more months of documenting my progress.

And here’s to a good October, enjoyable in season, fruitful in tasks completed, abundant in words assembled into sentences, paragraphs, lines, chapters, and sections. May computers work, the Internet remain stable, modems and routers not fail, the electricity not hiccup, and all things writing-related work in harmony.