autumn is my favorite season.
you can keep your spring flowers …
you can wallow in your summer heat …
you can bundle up in your winter cold …
just please, for the love of that golden light, give me autumn! all those colors—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet. now, so many of them finally visible. filtered, perhaps, for 365 days. stored, perhaps, just for the right season. autumn. green becomes red, red becomes yellow, yellow becomes brown. compost is the end of all things planted … only to become what new things grow in again.
i love it when the first signs of autumn begin to creep into the air—faint chills, a changing light, a perfect blue tint to the sky. everything begins to grow tighter, shorter, contracting in upon itself as if the universe is temporarily put in reverse. the trees begin to struggle, to falter in their green-growing-ness. indecisive in the slow unwinding of light and hint of cold in the air. some give themselves up early, letting their resolve fade into the brilliant colors of dying leaves as a prologue to the entire production that is autumn.
the rest of the trees, though green, seem to be only green by sheer bravado … or stubborn persistence.
the change of seasons is always so invigorating for me. autumn inspires me. makes me want to be productive—externally as well as internally.
this season above any other reminds me that at all times, all things are being made new.
even—or especially—in difficult times. fall brings rain and storms. hard, cold ones instead of the hot, raging ones of summer. the clouds are distant, brooding. the shrinking daylight drains me, despite my love of the season.
i cannot be content, and, like the trees themselves, am always confronted with the need to change before winter’s cold grip blankets us all. winter is a time of sleep, a time of rest, a time of death before spring returns with new life and new warmth.
autumn is the harvest time, the time when fields are ripe and ready. this year i can tell i have let my heart grow fallow—weeds, not crops, have come to grow in the garden of my heart before God. there is nothing to offer him right now, it seems. i feel as though my tired hands are empty, that my hard work has been for nothing this year.
this autumn, i only have myself to give, tired and stretched too-thin like the taut, expectant sky above. worn out. i must shed my burdens as the trees shed their leaves. i must prepare myself to be made new once again.
like all those colors stored up in leaves, i must let it all out. i must drain. drop off.
Share your thoughts?