Autumn’s Season

When autumn makes its gradual appearance, I experience joyful anticipation mixed with rumbles of dread. After summer’s extreme heat and humidity, I long for the cooler temperatures while part of me shies away from the inevitable drop of the thermometer. On the heels of October, the first weekend of  November brings the reality that twilight wanes to darkness like a curtain falling after the last act of a play. It comes much too quickly. I wrestle through the drastic changes my internal clock faces, the struggle to wrap my mind around the inevitable—daylight hours are shrinking while the night-time blanket stretches to eternity.

Though I don’t live in an area that offers spectacular shows of autumn color, each year, I try to make a trip “up north” to experience the wonder of the season. The green trees have transformed into a riot of yellows, oranges, golds, and reds. The landscape becomes a kaleidoscope of intense technicolor, leaving me speechless. It’s a glorious dance from the first whispers of autumn’s playful tune until chimes of wind and occasional downpours force the final stubborn leaves to swirl to the ground. Struck with awe and stirred to contemplate the immensity of God’s creative imagination and power, I witnessed the last vestige of summer disappear, leaving nature’s colorful mosaic carpet dappling the lawn. 

It was a joyful yet solemn parade as I watched river birch leaves glitter like gold dust riding on the wings of erratic gusts of wind. The leaves dipped and swirled for their grand finale, dancing to music only they could hear as they floated down gracefully, forming fanciful patchwork quilts on the grass below. On the whisper of a gentle breeze, when the air barely stirred, lone leaves drifted slowly and seemed to hesitate in mid-air before tumbling to the spongy coolness of the earth. Mesmerized, I watched as one last golden leaf fought to cling to a branch. Then, flipping and twisting around, it finally gave up the fight and loosed its hold, leaving the bare tree to stand watch, counting the days until spring. 

It occurred to me that perhaps trees are monuments to faith, teaching us valuable lessons. Their leaves come and go in glorious seasons of new birth and dying. They bend their wills to receive the new and say goodbye to the withered. They are not afraid to stand naked for a while, trusting that their fresh, lush coats will be draped on their shoulders again after a brief time. For me, I resist any “naked time,” no matter how brief. I desire the moments of color and moderate temperatures to remain forever. But that isn’t God’s plan. The leaves’ colors and fanciful dance occur as the temperatures drop and the tree’s life-giving sap withdraws to nourish its limbs, trunk, and roots. The leaves must fall. Completely bare, the tree stands against the elements of nature: an onslaught of cold or freezing temperatures, frigid winds, and, for some, icy layers of snow. It seems a horrid test, but God created nature to be resilient.

Given its showy bursts of color with leaves falling in rapid descent to the earth, autumn urges me to pause and consider the significance of life’s seasons. Countless people have blessed my life with the richness of texture, color, and showers of love. Various circumstances have brought me joy and pain. Saying goodbye to friends and loved ones is always difficult, and their memories squeeze my heart with an ache that lingers. Then I remember the bare tree. It isn’t dead; it is only preserving its resources to begin again as the seasons of life change, bringing warmth, sunshine, and new life.

Each evening, I watch the clock. As each dark day passes, time draws closer to that magical day when the sun decides it’s time to shine a little longer. Each day brings the excitement of hope as the sunset touches the horizon a little later. Before I know it, new life sprouts, bringing young, tender green leaves, and the promise is kept. Light conquers the darkness. 

So, I anticipate autumn with joy, squelching the echo of winter’s gray gloom, and enter the wonder of creation’s mystical performance. With all its grandeur, a marvelous ballet production, and a prelude to discoveries, autumn will prepare me for the quiet solitude of winter days. Nature rests as she garners her strength, waiting to burst upon the scene once again as verdant fields and groves of trees, a bountiful array of beauty to help me survive and thrive. May all of our autumns remind us to hold fast to joy despite the darkness that sometimes comes and to link arms with The One who makes all things new in His perfect timing.  

This posts featured photo is an image taken by Annette during a trip to Boone, North Carolina.