The spicy, vivid tone of Autumn is in the air. As my feet trace a well-worn path along our red dirt road, studded with the shapes of mismatched stones, I can only marvel at the beauty God has created. My breath catches in my throat, as the wind softly whispers through the pale, golden-y yellow of leaves that again cap the fine, slender trunks of the young trees that sporadically dot the countryside.
Fall has come once again.
I can't understand how anyone can dislike the quiet serenity that seems to come hand in hand with it. When I think of fall, I think of deep books, intricate knitting projects, pumpkins, apple cider, and pies...among so many other things.
It seems refreshing in some small way to pull out the cooler weather wardrobe you have stored away--the well-worn purple jacket you've worn since you were eleven, the new bolero you've only worn once or twice, the obstinate mate to a pair of shoes that actually has laces. It's sweetly sorrowful to pull on for one last time that lovely summer piece of clothing you had such fun in one day.
Nights are cool, and, as usual, Autumn's fingerprint seems especially icy on my spine. My mint-green down blanket has been stored away in my closet over the summer, and is beginning to look mighty fine indeed. Nothing like a down blanket or three to keep you snug as a bug.
It has been a tough year. I know--and have to believe--that one day soon good times will be peeking around the corner at me again. In some ways, though it is hard to explain, I am as thankful for the difficult times as I am the light-hearted ones. In some unspeakable way, trying times have always drawn the hearts of people closer together, and it has done no less in my own life.
So, yes...this is a fine day, because I am alive and well, with a roof over my head, my God in my heart, and a family that unflinchingly cares for me. One fine day builds upon the next, until they become as a string of fine, dewy pearls in my memory.