Fall foliage

Maddux Morse • Nov 3, 2026 • 4 min read • 4 views

By Maddux Morse \ Nov. 3, 2026

All photos courtesy of Maddux Morse.

As the leaves begin to turn this year, a slow feeling of sadness spreads within me like a drop of ink into a glass of water. I just finished celebrating my last homecoming as a student, and I feel a bittersweet sense of loss, knowing that the next time I see the orange and garnet floating down in the breeze, I will be an alumna.

The sunlight brightens the yellow of these leaves, and the contrast makes this tree outside of the CCM a stunning centerpiece to a beautiful fall day at MC.

Every year, my view changes a bit. Freshman year, I could look out my window with an overlook onto the pool of water that collects on the flat roof above the Proffitt Dining Hall. I could sit on a couch in the Pearson’s common room and watch leaves fall through the old windows.

Sophomore year brought a new perspective; a different view, and new trees to become acquainted with. I walked past the stinky tree next to Pearson’s every day (it’s the worst in the spring, when the fruit falls) on my way from Gibson to Thaw, where I have spent the vast majority of my time at Maryville College, as a social sciences double major who also works in the building. I have seen new picnic tables replace the rotten wood underneath the huge tree outside of Thaw Hall, and this year, the new tables took their first nap under a cozy blanket of leaves.

The view from a study table in Thaw Hall, the old, tall windows look out onto campus at the most beautiful time of the year.

A few years ago, I wrote a poem about the foliage atop College Hill. It is one of the few things in Tennessee that brings me back to my childhood in Vermont.

I wrote about the beautiful leaves I collect every year, serving as bookmarks that will fall out in a pile of rust-colored rust years later. The other day, I found two preserved maple leaves in a folder from last year, faded but still clinging to a trace of the vibrant color that once was.

The garnet leaves that decorate this tree (between the CCM and Thaw Hall) set it apart from the light oranges and greens of the surrounding foliage.

It’s clear from this image which side of the tree gets more sun, with some leaves popping with a saturated red, while orange and yellow fade down along the less exposed leaves.

Last year, I familiarized myself with new trees, from the other side of campus. Now I walk past the sapling outside of Fayerweather on my way back to Beeson. Looking at this tree, I forget when it was planted. Definitely recently, most likely during my time at MC. When I look at the 8 foot sapling, I wonder how tall it will tower when I next come back.

A serene fall sunset as a trace of light paints the clouds pink, the silhouette of trees and Beeson village nestled picturesquely under the sky.

This reflection makes me wonder what else will change on campus after my time as a student comes to an end. Will professors who have shaped my education be here in 10 years? Will the classmates I am walking the stage with come back to their alma mater in the years following our graduation? Which faces that I’ve gone through the last four years with will I forget by the time I see them next? And which ones will I never see again?

This tree, outside Anderson Hall and in the early stages of the autumnal change, boasts bright greens and yellows, and the gnarled trunk alludes to stories of its past.

In my final year as a student, I know I will continue to face the reality of this chapter closing. My last Homecoming is one of the most bittersweet of my many MC lasts. As I witness thousands of leaves falling each day, I can sense the urge to let go; the urge to fly away, with the leaves… away from this place that I call home. And somehow, at the same time, I wish I could beg the leaves to hang on, to slow down for a moment and give me a bit more time to soak up my last autumn in Maryville.

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