It’s that time of year again. The time when I post sappy things about how much the air is intoxicating me and the colors take my breath away. Really, it sounds quite hard on my body, all this drunkenness and lack of breathing, corneas scorched by the dazzlement of colors… and I love it.
I was just driving around town, the aimless meandering when I have to be somewhere, but have time to waste beforehand. The fall here is just spectacular and my time driving was worship to the God who created this. Nature confounds me sometimes. The extremes of beauty and reality of the harshness are constantly battling each other. I see a leaf whose bright colors seem surreal, the beauty in the simplicity and dependence of happening every year, then an animal born with a defect that makes every day a painful journey for it.
I can’t come to terms with it, nature is so much bigger than me and scarier. I love it, I hate it and I am drawn to it. I can’t understand how someone could even doubt there is a God who created this. The earth is his masterpiece; the great artists of the last millennium reflect but a tiny bit of the beauty that he spoke into existence. I breathe it in, heart pounding.
The leaves on the wind spin like a dancer, talking one final bow before the closing of the season. The earth smells like softness and sweet decay. Crispness fills the air; in feeling and in place. The clatter of dry things falling onto the pavement is like therapy, skittering leaves scrape ever so gently.
The death of another season. The hope and anticipation of Spring. My heart yearns for it, wondering and expecting the new life.