To listen to us talk, you would think our lives encompass entire planetary systems. We talk blithely about the “world of sports” and “the world of politics,” and someone even cooked up a place called Planet Hollywood. And almost every family has a member who is in “a world of his own.” This summer we heard a lot about the “natural world” and how cool and wet it was – and, ominously, how dangerous it has become. First there was Lyme Disease, and now West Nile Virus. Yes, there is a world of worry out there.

This multiplicity of worlds is propagated and propelled by the great gravitational pull of the self, which encourages us to believe that all things orbit around us. Many a poor soul is lost in the great black hole of egocentricity, but here in New England we are fortunate that the real world, the one world we all share, the only one of our acquaintance with bona fides, comes to our rescue.

 When the world trips over the autumnal equinox, and the trees of New England tilt precariously toward winter, the chlorophyll in their leaves spills out. Stripped so suddenly of their modest green cover, the leaves respond with a sudden blush. Confronted as we are with this blushing beauty as we emerge from our homes and offices, drive on the highways, and otherwise attend to the worlds of our own devising, we are taken out of ourselves long enough to remind us that we are not the center of the universe.

Even those of us who have spent our whole lives in this corner of the world still gasp in the morning when we wake to the astonishing fall colors emerging through the ground fog. Leaving behind the “world of work” for the morning, and climbing to the open fields of the Holcombe property at the crest of Great Hill, it is possible to see that this palette of color spreads out over the curve of the horizon in every direction. It is also possible to see in comparison all the small worlds we have collected throughout the year first turn pale and small, and then, if you sit quietly, disappear altogether.

Everything has its proper place in our one world. Deer ticks and virus-laden mosquitoes, subsumed for now, we hope, by the early frost, will be back in the spring to take their place on our list of concerns. The big project at work, the big game at school, the big election next month are, in the long run, not that earthshaking. They will come and go and influence us in one direction or another toward still more projects, games, and decisions. But for now, at this particular time in this particular corner of the world, our proper place should be at the window, or outside, or if we can manage it, at the crest of a great hill, basking in the beauty of our one blushing, beautiful world.