I pull on my jacket and step outside. It is brisk out this morning and the sun has not fully risen over the cool horizon. The smell of spice and pungency penetrate my nose and I think about the last days of summer and nature drawing her curtain on that production. Leaves fall at my feet and I watch them scuttle to the fence bottoms when the wind comes to play.
The days start so much cooler now with a crispness that reminds me winter is on the way. I need my jacket until afternoon comes but then summer returns for a few short hours and I bask in her glow and reminisce with her.
Fall and spring are the bridges between such stark contrasts: the desolation and pause of winter, and the vibrancy and productivity of summer. Spring is the reminder of nature’s resilience and fall is the reminder of the necessity of death. The circle completes again and again and I am witness to it.
The birds are travelling in numbers again. This year’s offspring join in the throngs and they prepare to make the journey to somewhere else. The flowers in my garden bow their heads and drop their raised branches. They too are looking for a rest in the garden bed.
Fall is my reminder to let the seasons of my life happen as gracefully. A windy storm may blow through and threaten to uproot me but I can also release my grip on trying to control the ebbs and flows, the comings and the goings, and the abundant times and the lean times. There can be ease to this progression if I simply let it happen.