Because in the inevitable hibernation, depression, bitterness, and sharp attitude that we face every year, we need the grace of warm color. We need the transition and time to bid our farewells to bare feet in grass, endless porch sitting, fresh pears and tomatoes, and the warm sun baths. And then once again, Nature woos us to the scary and necessary world of death with comfort of communion among wool, steam, fire, and others.
Autumn is the blessed time for new air, and it is fresh. And as we layer upon layer blankets, coats, scarves, thicker tights, and mug after mug of sustenance, we find a coziness that isn’t readily available any other time of the year.
But the true comfort of all comforts is that we are once again reminded of promise. In this world, there are scores of unknowns. So many guarantees that we long for, we simply never get to have. When a season changes, we can find the constant we have long wished for in that the season will ceaselessly change. We are always promised that.
I remember the smell of hay in the barn and how its familiarity would soothe me. Every year. Season upon season. Cycles. And then back around again.
And then before we know it, we find ourselves in anticipation for what is to come:
We cannot deny that we feel utter cheer whenever the evergreen swells in our homes. Winter is the bowl to stuff childhood memories. The bowl from which we are privileged to pull each year and relive eating snow cones from our own backyards, making homemade hot chocolate with grandma, or flannel everything.
Winter is a truth so bare and cold; we can’t help but be in awe, though it may be pain for a while. The courage of Nature to surrender as it does each time is astounding and inspiring.
Maybe we, too, can find that courage among our own. Maybe we, too, can live the daring days of saying goodbye to life for a while or forever. Maybe we too can face the arctic days of death ahead with the excitement for what Professor Dumbledore referred to as “the next great adventure,” to the well-organized mind.
This season, may we lose ourselves as we are meant to in pumpkin spiced muffins and apple butter and ciders and homemade knits and potpourri simmer pots and leave crunching and wind and s’mores and hayrides and pumpkin carving and mulled wine and the last cherished picnics and our harvest and mums and crackling wood and reds and oranges and yellows and browns.
Blessed are those who receive Nature’s transformations with grace and anticipation. The Lord has meant for our world to please us so. The Lord has meant for our bodies to be in tune with our surroundings whether that means eating seasonally or acknowledging our lives’ reflection of season. These changes are sacred and our days are sacred. The Lord has made them all, and we are fortunate upon fortunate to be in it. Autumn, and beyond, we welcome you.