By very definition Autumn is a time of dying. Each year we watch the gradual transition as the once deep green leaves, the leaves that were born of the Spring, housed chirping birds, provided much needed shade through the hot months of summer; we watch as they gradually change.
Die.
And fall.
Isn't it amazing though that without question we as a society all acknowledge that the most beautiful time during the entire life of these leaves is right before the fall-when in an almost defiant final act they burst forth in a vibrant array of color. As if their last act is to say-"I will not go quietly."
They get to do it their own way-the most beautiful way possible.
For me Autumn will always be associated with the change that dying brings. With the beauty that comes from doing it your own way. I fully believe that although the God of all orchestrates when each living thing is to die, the leaves just one example, by accepting his timing, death can become a bright, beautiful spectacle of color.
It's as if his gift to you for the good life lived, and for accepting all he gave is to become a result of the Autumn, a bright red leaf.
And so I love Autumn. I love it for its smells, tastes, colors and temperature. I love it for it's cozy welcoming, and for all that it prepares us for. I love it for all it's taught me, and for all it gives me. But mostly I love Autumn for its beauty.
To me Autumn is the beauty before the fall.
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To the old man who falls no more, I still miss you every day. Thanks for teaching me to accept all we're given. You'll always be Autumn to me.
