I love autumn. The dance of a brisk fall breeze signals colder days ahead, and maple trees punctuate the landscape with bright tartan colors. Flower beds sing with a chorus of vividly colored pansies and mums. Roadside stands beckon travelers to stop and fill rustic wooden baskets with firm red apples. Front porches are adorned with scarecrows and hay bales. Chatter at the local grocery stores often turns to which team will win the Friday night football game, or when the first freeze will occur.
Our nationís countryside is sprinkled with autumn celebrations. They may be called fall festivals, harvest festivals, or something entirely different, but their common thread is to applaud the autumn season. I dare anyone to leave one of these wonderful gatherings without being wooed by a sweet funnel cake, or a spicy homemade candle.
The animals know when it is autumn. My hummingbird feeder, a place in spring and summer for the tiny winged ones to congregate, is now abandoned. At the same time, crows are abundant. They convene on high wires and in tree tops, greeting the day with a cacophony of calls. Other creatures tend to the business of preparing for winter. Sometimes, I think they are wiser than we are. They donít neglect their chores, but go about them with gusto, gathering and storing and hiding.
Autumn is the perfect season for making pumpkin pie. There is nothing like the aroma of cinnamon and ginger to make a kitchen extra cozy. Sharing a piece of warm pumpkin pie with a loved one is one of lifeís vastly underrated pleasures.
Some people do not like to see autumn arrive. They view it as an end to lazy summer days, instead of heralding in a new season filled with brilliant color. As I enter the autumn of my life, I realize how blessed I am. My life is dotted with the rich hues of children and grandchildren. I no longer receive a pay check, but I am quite wealthy. Watching a toddler, head bowed in prayer, is the most wonderful harvest anyone could reap.
The cooler autumn days do not bother me. I welcome them, knowing soon it will be winter, and the winter of my life will soon arrive as well. Iím not afraid. If itís as wonderful as my autumn, Iím going to have a ball.
Copyright 2006 Betty Castleberry
~The author is a retired-early-by-choice RN who lives in Texas with her husband and three parrots. She has a daughter, step daughter, and five grandchildren. She is a published author, and loves to write for the Lord. Email her @ firstname.lastname@example.org