End of Summer.
Autumn. Fall. Harvest Season. An Equinox. Turning Point. …
Blazing leaves,
Halloween and Thanksgiving, breezes, cooler air, fires in hearths, return to
routines, hunkering closer to home, rains, shift from light to dark, gathering
and storing and bringing inside …
No matter what it’s called, no matter what associations come
to mind, autumn can be an incredibly potent time. Every year I write a love
note to the autumn.
9.22.16
Dear Sweet Autumn,
Today is your birthday: the equinox. I love you so very
much. In fact, I blushingly admit: I adore you.
The ecstasy of breezes blowing through the bamboo chimes,
shifting light, sunsets that pale in comparison to fire-bearing leaves, the
smell of wood smoke in the cooling air, evening windows bathed with the yellow
glow of family love. Call me a romantic. Silly. Frivolous, even. But when the
sun rises later and later, and the dusty jackets of last winter are called to
the coat rack near the door, I begin to feel the thrill of your arrival. I do
not mourn the passing of summer; I relish watching you slowly make your way
here.
Your beauty and brilliance captivate me. Your steady
patience and reliable return each year soothe me. I love your ability to hold a
wide open quiet space within—to guide me there, even as the winds rise up loud
and strong, the rains begin to rip through the trees in torrents that send the
cedar boughs flying. The vast and stunning inner landscape views open up: wide,
sweeping, diverse, rich internal geographies.
You, my Dearest Fall, work your magic on me in inexplicable
ways. And you have always done this for me. I have written reveries about your
arrival when I was a little girl:
One dark wet night late in my fourth October, my tiny hands
grasped the windowsill and my nose—pressed against the pane—watched dancing
twinkles of raindrops, lit up a royal blue. I fell in love with you in that
moment, Autumn. The next day you had scattered some liquidambar leaves that recited crispy poetry under
my baby shoes as I walked to kindergarten in a love-struck daze.
Ever since, living in places wet or dry, distinctly marked
by seasons or not, you have guided me, held a spacious nest of inspiration, and
given me gifts extraordinary with your annual return.
Your birthday is my gift. How blessed I am! My present to
you is my promise, my deep abiding commitment, to be attentive to your glories
each time you return. To use the gift of your passionate embrace to root my own
work deeper in the world: writing, creating beauty, honoring the opportunity
for quiet solitude, being present with my people—those I’m called to serve. I
will express my gratitude for all things Nature, all things Awe, all things
Beautiful, or Edgy, or Unsure. Because, Dear Fall, you inspire me so! I return
your embrace with all the love in my heart.
I celebrate this day, your birthday-equinox, with excitement
and in deep respect. (And, you can count on hearing from me again, Autumn; my
delight in you is boundless, though this letter is not.)
I love, love, love, love, love you, Autumn!
With abiding gratitude for the countless gifts you bring
year after year,
Your Adoring Human
