Autumn, fall, harvest, equinox, call it what you may, but this temperate season is always a welcome occurrence even as it annoys the impatient in me when it creeps in dramatic slowness, seemingly reluctant to dispel the discomfort and humidity of the blistering summer heat. Tired of waiting for its protracted arrival, I initially thought it had lost its place in the hierarchy of seasons and had surrendered to the long, encroaching summer without a fight. But today, with its characteristic unhurried fashion, it started to stealthily send some preliminary signals.
They were subtle indicators that suggested the reign of summer was drawing nigh and that autumn, this season of vibrant foliage, was not too far behind. It started with the weatherman's prediction of temperature below the tiresome 3-digit mark. As I left the house this morning, I did not need to turn on the air in my car like usual, but more than that, there was something more visible and pronounced. I noticed the sun half-concealed its face in widely scattered clouds and was content to cast its grandeur through rays of muted light. A soft, calming breeze, just enough for the tiny leaves to flutter demurely, also said a quick "hello" as misty raindrops, sprinkled by a thin patch of clouds overhead, came and left in haste. As harbingers of the the season, they carried a long-awaited message: "Autumn is at the door", and I, for one, am filled with great anticipation for its full appearance.
What is it for me that makes autumn so welcome? Maybe it is the arrogant summer sun, magnificent but obstinate, mighty but proud, bright but unforgiving. Perhaps I just want another force of nature to quell the haughty edge of its splendor. Or maybe it is autumn itself, the season in its own, that appeals to me with its beauty that touches the soul. For who can deny the peace one feels at the sight of nature's grandeur displayed in an array of colors, foliage of red, brown, gold, yellow, and a splash of every other tantalizing shade in between? Who can question with reason the existence of a Supreme Creator when beholding the golden hills and meandering paths of varied hues that welcome the eyes when autumn is at its best? Like a polished damsel of noble birth, autumn is gentle without being meek, subdued without being submissive, dazzling without grandiosity. Autumn is the tender hand that rescues us from the oppressive summer, the calming face that we behold before we submit to the bitter cold of winter. Its soft and tranquil breeze is the arm of a long lost friend that quiets the anxious spirit. Even the occasional rain that it brings at its wake is a cleansing potion that revives and enlivens the sluggish fiber of the self.
Autumn is a season of thanksgiving, of gratitude for life's blessings. It is a time of year when the presence of a loving God is not only imagined, but seen, and felt, and truly experienced.
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