What IS peak color?

is this “peak color?"

Photo by J. Harrington

The Better Half and I had an animated conversation yesterday. Our personal definitions of peak autumn color differ widely. As I frequently do, using an internet search engine, I sought an answer from authority, and failed miserably. This link will take you to the only “definition” I could find. Even it focuses more on “past peak” than on peak, but finally offers the following:

All of this “past peak fall color” can be just as glorious as the mystical and highly elusive “peak” so many will look for. To me, the definition of “peak” is more of a state of mind than an actual event.

Here is an example. If you look at a small hill on ANY given day, none of the trees will be in fall color all the same. In mid-Sept, there may be one or more trees that for some reason are feeling stressed, so on this fine day they are bright red, but the rest of the hill is mostly green.

In a week or two, half the trees on this small hill are yellow, orange or red while the early ones are past peak or even bare. But if you are in the state of mind that takes in the whole hill, you are ecstatic that you found “peak” when in reality the trees at the bottom are well past “peak” so by MY literal definition (Jeff’s peak definition) All trees and all branches have to be turning or turned by at least 75% or more, but NOT past peak yet. 

There are many sites and pages that offer maps and calendars on where and  when  to look for peak foliage colors, without sharing what  they mean by  that. Other sites, such as this U.S. Forest Service page, provide explanations of which trees turn what colors and why.

are these oak leaves at peak color?

Photo by J. Harrington

It seems unfortunate, but we may be reduced to judging peak color using the (in)famous expression of Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart “I know it  when I see  it.”

Merry Autumn

Paul Laurence Dunbar - 1872-1906

It’s all a farce,—these tales they tell

     About the breezes sighing,

And moans astir o’er field and dell,

     Because the year is dying.

 

Such principles are most absurd,—

     I care not who first taught ’em;

There’s nothing known to beast or bird

     To make a solemn autumn.

 

In solemn times, when grief holds sway

     With countenance distressing,

You’ll note the more of black and gray

     Will then be used in dressing.

 

Now purple tints are all around;

     The sky is blue and mellow;

And e’en the grasses turn the ground

     From modest green to yellow.

 

The seed burrs all with laughter crack

     On featherweed and jimson;

And leaves that should be dressed in black

     Are all decked out in crimson.

 

A butterfly goes winging by;

     A singing bird comes after;

And Nature, all from earth to sky,

     Is bubbling o’er with laughter.

 

The ripples wimple on the rills,

     Like sparkling little lasses;

The sunlight runs along the hills,

     And laughs among the grasses.

 

The earth is just so full of fun

     It really can’t contain it;

And streams of mirth so freely run

     The heavens seem to rain it.

 

Don’t talk to me of solemn days

     In autumn’s time of splendor,

Because the sun shows fewer rays,

     And these grow slant and slender.

 

Why, it’s the climax of the year,—

     The highest time of living!—

Till naturally its bursting cheer

     Just melts into thanksgiving.

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