It's fall. Did I mention that I love fall? Because I do. I love it. Goodbye heavy, humid air of summer; hello crisp, clear air of Autumn. There's something bright and wonderful about a day that smells like coloring leaves. See ya next year, Chlorophyll.
Some have said that the Fall is a season of dying, followed by a winter-long look at death, but I don't see it that way. To me, Fall is a reminder of God's awesome ability to wipe the slate clean. Slowly. With style. There's nothing "sudden" about Fall. It's an entire season of false starts and stops. Yesterday is 65, today is 90. Oh, Fall; you fickle thing. Leaves that were verdant green yesterday are tinged with yellow today. What could be more profound that driving through a wooded lane guarded by blushing trees?
Each season has its own unique smell, and I think the scent belonging to Fall may be my favorite. Words to describe it? Crisp. Clear. Woodsmoke. Apple. Corn husk. Change. Golden. God chooses to light Autumn with the flare of an expert light-technician. Do you ever notice the perfect slant of the sunlight? It's just enough to brighten the foliage of the trees while still allowing them to glow all on their own. And is there anything more breathtaking that viewing a darkened sky spotlighted by a setting sun? Or the horizon awash with hues of melon, blush, aubergine, over top a picture-perfect treeline done in charcoal?
I love the way Autumn arrives just as Summer takes a final bow; working together they ease the changing scene. Perfect segue partners. The brutish Winter could take some lessons from this graceful pas de deux. Instead it cuts in quickly, knocking off days or even weeks from Autumn's full schedule; cutting short the last days of a beautiful season. A still frame; yellow leaves frozen to branches; piles of colorful foliage gone brown under an early snow. Suddenly Winter.
I love this season. The bright days. The gray ones. The crisp air. The damp air. The way everything just declares itself; Fall. It may be too short for my liking, but I'm enjoying every day we have of it. Windows open. Sweatshirt on. In the woods or in a meadow. Hello, Autumn. Good to see you again, friend.