"Autumnal" . . .I love that word

These are the days of my life. There are about 28 days or so in late October and November that are perfect, at least in my book. They are some of the reasons I love where I live. Sometime in mid-October the thick, warm, humid summer reluctantly and slowly releases North Alabama from its heavy hand , and within a few days the sky is blue, the sun is golden, and every day is an adventure in creation as the trees first hint of the coming change with a red leaf here, a yellow leaf there. Then overnight the artist spills the paint, and in the perfect light of the lower sun the colors explode.

The leafy carpet of golden hickory, amber oak, and maroon maple are the recipe for an autumn potpourri that in the cool morning air smells of spice and memories. After an early autumn storm, which have been plentiful this year, the scent of broken pine spikes the recipe, creating an aroma that cannot be stored or saved. It must be enjoyed in the moment.

Autumn is intoxicating for me.

I love discussions of religion and politics: health reform, war, economics, social justice, poverty. You know the list.

But this is a time apart for me. A precious time. A rare time. A short, short time.

There will be time in a very few days to sit in the house on cold days and dark nights to ponder the weighty issues of the day.

But today I will walk on that carpet of gold, amber and maroon, and let the creation ponder me.
I hope you make time to come along.

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