The gentle farewell of the year

by Walter G. Allgöwer

A narrow path disappears into the breath of autumn, as if the forest had decided to reveal its secrets only to those who walk slowly. The beech trees of the Swabian Alb stand like silent guardians, their trunks dark and calm, while their leaves bid farewell in shades of yellow, gold and soft green. Beneath your feet rustles a carpet from days gone by – leaves that once carried light and now warm the ground. A fine mist hovers between the trunks, blurring the boundary between near and far. Everything seems muted, as if the world has turned down the volume to listen to autumn. This silence is not an end, but a promise: that of change. The beech tree, Fagus sylvatica, lets go without complaint. Its fall is calm, dignified, part of an ancient cycle that has been at work here in the Alb for centuries.
The light finds its way through the canopy, refracting softly and tentatively, as if it does not want to disturb anything. The path invites you to continue, not to arrive, but to linger. This forest knows no hurry. It teaches patience, gentleness and the quiet happiness of being part of a moment that passes – and precisely because of that, remains.