A chill in the air nips my nose, the leaves shimmer yellow, gold and crimson against a grey sky, a faint whiff of woodsmoke hovers near.  Autumn, my favorite season, always surprises me with its colorful trees, cool nights, and shortening days.  Since childhood, I have associated autumn with new beginnings: new school shoes, a new loose-leaf notebook, and a new Scooby Doo lunchbox. (These are back in style, I hear.)  And although school started more than six weeks ago, only now has the chill of autumn descended on a sunny day. Autumn also ensures new endings: after the hurried gathering of food the animals will hibernate, after the last rose blooms the flowers will fade, after the last crop is harvested the land will rest fallow.

To live in a way that we are spiritually awake requires the twin skills of living fully alive in every moment and paying attention to the turn of seasons from now to eternity.  There is a universality in the celebration of autumn color. Who doesn’t enjoy a ride out in the country to go leaf-peeping?  And there is an individuality in the memories of autumns past and the hopes of autumns to come.  This season marks beginnings and endings, standing still and moving along, summer past and winter to come.

At some moment this Fall (it hasn’t happened, but it will — I wait for it…)  At some particular place on a hike or on the highway, I will suddenly look up to see a blanket of colorful trees against a hillside or the brilliant saffron yellow leaves reflected in a still pond, and I will stop what I am doing and gaze up to heaven and clap my hands.  Well done, God, well done!  I praise you for Autumn glory!