IMG_4900IMG_4905IMG_4890 IMG_4891 IMG_4898   IMG_4904   IMG_4881

Some life cycles are more easily understood than others

The vibrancy of Spring’s palette sparks hope inside of us. We start our walks outside.

We meander paths we haven’t taken before. It’s the season of courage.

We notice the earth’s change; the yawn just before dawn.

Tightly bound buds emerge almost overnight and the chartreuse green on the landscape awakens our soul.

It feels like spring is easy to understand.

Then the summer takes the stage, with sounds loud and bold.

The flowing rivers and birds in flight, blooms and sunshine late into the night.

It makes us breathe deep and dream. Everyone relates to analogies of “summer days”.

It’s the season of adventure.

And honestly, even Winter in its stillness brings a calm.

It causes us to embrace sweet introspection.

The secret of silent growth and warmth sits dormant, but alive inside of us.

Yes, winter brings us in and keeps us huddling close.

It’s the season of quiet strength.

But Autumn… it’s a churning river of emotion.

One day vibrant, the next overcast and dreary. Fickle to the core.

Even the aspens in their golden blaze contrasts against the darkening sky.

Volatile: that’s the word that comes to mind; uncertain of the next act.

Just when the fire-color starts to sing the most glorious song, the music stops.

It feels we’ve just been slapped in the face.

Just like that, the letting go is upon us.

Like lightning surprises the sky, mid-song the silence emerges…

and the leaves let go.

Either carried by the river or settling to the dusty ground, they swirl fall, vulnerable to the wind’s whim.

There is a deep melancholy in my soul watching this.

The leaf that fluttered to the ground begins another journey; as if the first journey wasn’t traumatic enough.

The next journey is the hardest of all, and yet the most simple. It’s the journey back to dust.

With sadness for the pain and joy for the beauty,  I watch the ticking clock take it away piece by piece.

When I walk the path again, I’ll look for glimpses of a trace- just a trace of when the leaves turned to lace.

This bravery of relinquishment has a way of lingering in my heart.

It’s the beauty that will stay with me long past pumpkins, cozy blankets and warm drinks.

Nothing more beautifully reveals the delicacy of saying goodbye; of surrender; of trust,

than the graceful journey of Autumn’s lace.