Autumn is my favorite season. I love the cool air and the scent of moisture on decaying leaves. I love walking through a waft of silky smoke produced by newly hewn logs burning in a well-rested fireplace.
Autumn light enchants me. Something changes in the refraction of light during autumn. Instead of bouncing off objects like it does during Summer, light in autumn pulls apart becoming a cobweb of sunbeams. It blankets objects and sinks into crevices. Edges become softer; colors deeper. The whole world is ablaze in muted golden rays.
When I was young, autumn brought the promise of a candy filled night, pumpkin pies, parties and fluffy piles of leaves. As I got older, sweets were replaced with crackling fires and cups of hot tea and high school football games.
Still older now, autumn has become the symbol of my age. I've come to realize autumn, as it always is, will be the last shining season before winter. I don’t know that I am there just yet, but I see it on the horizon. I've lost some of my summer exuberance and even more of the budding youth of spring. The seasons of my life are flying by. Yet, I feel the same excitement for my personal autumn as I do when I open the door to the first crisp, fall morning.
I linger for a moment to soak in the chill and savor the fragrance of fall. “It’s almost here” I whisper, as I wrap my silky, sunny robe into a tight cocoon.
It’s almost here.
Lately I've realized just like autumn leaves, I look forward to detaching from limbs that sometimes hold me against my will. I can’t wait to drift in the golden haze and then lift again to float on the wind. The frenetic pace of summer has schooled me on the need for fall. And soon, I will be content to be carried where ever life might take me. When the harvest wind arrives, I will be ready.
I hope it brings a long October, a full hunters’ moon, a spicy sip of cider and a cozy shawl.