Fall is normally one of our peaceful seasons of transition.
Like spring, it eases us into a time of extremes…extremes in terms of weather, activities and especially the celebration of life in one form or another…most of which include lots of food, friends and adult beverages.
Spring is known for its colorful blooms, Easter egg baskets; breezy days spent thatching the lawn and hoeing the gardens awake.
Fall is known for its colorful foliage, pumpkin patches, apple cider and crisp sunny days spent raking leaves and putting the gardens to bed.
Where spring plays harmonies of anticipation, fall plays the melody of submission.
Winter is knocking on the door.
Prepare the homestead…prepare yourself…short brittle days and long cold nights lay ahead, in wait, in time.
Two sides of a sundial, as the sun slips around.
And while there’s still quite a bit of fall to encounter, it seems as if, this year, we’ve been cheated of our peaceful transition.
Forests of waning color, suddenly ripped apart; unable to fulfill the cycle of a hundred years…bloom, flourish, color the landscape, wither and fall, nourishing next year’s revival.
Early snow and icy chill.
Houses rendered uninhabitable. The inhabitable ones left in dark for weeks, lives forever scarred, altered and in some cases lost.
We focused more on power truck sightings this year than we did on falling leaves and trick or treaters.
We thought only of comfort; the restoration of normal, looking to the future for our friends and our families.
And nearly three weeks slipped away; Thanksgiving inexplicably now on our doorstep.
And while it may seem counter-intuitive to say…I think there will be many thanks, and much giving to go around this year.
For all that still stands and for what will be reclaimed.
For the spirit of hope that fuels us and the support of all those that drives us…always ahead.
But still, the future found.