Today is the last day of summer; the last hope for warm, lazy summer afternoons for the next few months.
For now, the nights will get longer; we'll cocoon ourselves with sweaters and wool socks; we'll feed ourselves comfort foods that invoke days gone by, and dearly departed loved ones.
Cooler weather will fill our senses as the days meander onward, into the heart of winter.
As I traverse the days of my autumn existence I take pleasure in the cooler days and the dense morning fog; the hope of Indian summer ever present in my heart and mind.
We’ll put the garden to bed, the tools snug in their places; we’ll fill the woodshed, the spicy scents of pine and cedar pungent and sweet; the harvest is in, or nearly so; the larder filling up with gleaming jars.
The changing of the leaves, like the changing of the guard, creates a striking show; my mind wanders back to other autumns long forgotten, but ever present; a green forest rich with autumn beauty in what seemed a treat just for me. Wood smoke hanging low in the air as I scramble over the spongy ground, the sights and smells of autumn a riotous carnival of color and beauty; the trees dancing in the breeze would sing to me of the dying and rebirth cycle about to begin again; at once, ancient and new.
Scarlet and gold, bronze, crimson and green, vying for my attention and my heart; for this, autumn is my favorite season. Winter has Christmas and the New Year; summer has its pools and parties; spring has new growth and secret gardens. But autumn, autumn shouts its glory for all to witness; the last hurrah before the long winter’s nap.
Combine this with the smell of dry leaves and wet pavement, or wood smoke and spicy cider, or all of the above; I enjoy the season as it awakens every cell within me to the beauty of God’s majesty, and treats my senses to the abundance of His love.
Who can count the joys of autumn?
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