The breeze seemed to pause along the fence line, perhaps to wonder at the same maple tree draped in hues of yellow, orange and red that had captured my gaze. Then the breeze picked up, rustling the leaves against the blue sky.
It was the perfect autumn day, swinging my moods from frustration to inspiration, anxious to gracious. And not without a hint of frustration again as I asked myself: Do I have to leave this woodland wonderland?
But I settled on the inspiring positive, tracing the soft flow of the land as it showed off brilliant color before it lets go of another season. There was a sweet contentment in the easy resignation that this was the last act, albeit a glorious one.
What is it that wraps one in heavy emotions of nostalgia and reflection on such a day in autumn? Are our memories that rich, that close to the surface, of the blazing maple hills beyond the homes of our childhood?
Perhaps the end of a season so beautiful but too short gives us cause to pause and consider our own end. If autumn all around us is so glorious, wouldn’t we wish for the same when our personal harvest is over? Do the loved ones who have gone before us come more sweetly to mind as we recall how they loved this season, how they’d love to see it again.
And so we realize how fortunate we are to be wrapped in another autumn, watching how gracefully nature moves on. A leaf falls, but it has its place on the forest floor. We would be best served to accept the same cycles of life and find our place.