My Father loved Autumn. He liked taking long strolls in the crisp cool air down our street at night. Occasionally, he would let me come along. This is a childhood memory of one such walk that I wrote down shortly after my Dad passed away. Every once in a while, on a cool evening in the fall, I remember he would feel the need to escape outside. Sometimes, the moonlight would shine like a giant flashlight on the sidewalk before us. My small hand was engulfed by his large one. That was often the only warm thing I felt. We lived in Cleveland, Ohio, right up by Lake Erie, and right across Lake Erie, was Canada. When those winds came from the north, the chilly air had a frosty bite that would go right through any coat or scarf you had on. This must have been something he enjoyed after the heat of summer. I certainly didn’t like the cool air as much as he, but it was magical to be out at night when I was young. I felt safe with my Dad. I did, however, immensely enjoy the sound of leaves crunching and flying as we walked through them. I still remember the sound of them crumbling underfoot. My attention was easily captivated by seeing my breath turn into vapor in the cold air. I would huff and puff just to make the interesting little cloud appear.
I also studied my Father’s facial expressions as we strolled along. He spoke on how he liked the huge maple trees that lined both sides of the street and how certain leaves were much larger than others. He would let me pick a bouquet of the larger ones to carry along in my other hand. In reality, it wasn’t late at night. With Daylight Savings Time it was most likely only around six or seven o’clock. Days grow shorter as the seasons change. Maybe this walk helped him let go of work-related stress. The walk never lasted long with temperatures that were steadily dropping and my much shorter legs trying to keep up with his much longer ones. Once we were back inside, the adventure over, a tired expression replaced the look of wonder and enjoyment on his face. The whole time I quietly analyzed him trying to understand his moodiness.
Now, as an adult, I can understand the enjoyment and the mood behind my Father’s eyes. There is a majestic, free note attached to nature in any season. I adopted his love for the fall though mine is slightly different in that I see the best values of the season during the daytime. I love to see the magnificent color changes occurring in the leaves. Their altered appearances were turning into gorgeous golds, brilliant reds, rustic browns, and olive greens with every life-sustaining vein in them acutely apparent. Once pliable textures now were drying and crumbling away. They were, however, still strikingly beautiful to behold as they were transitioning from their summer color into their final autumn best.
If one is still long enough, seasonal patterns become repeatedly pronounced during this time of year. The sun’s last source of warmth tries vainly to shine through mostly clouded skies. Summer days are gone until another revolution passes. Birds, small animals, and insects all do their best to prepare for the barren days ahead. You can hear them buzzing and scurrying through the fallen leaves gathering for winter. It is taken in through all my senses. I can feel the chill in the air once again. Another year has passed. Perhaps, these thoughts were going through my Father’s mind. Feelings of emptiness and loss as the cold chases away the friendly warmth of summer days. The smell of freshly cut grass now turns into smokey drifts of leaves burning and wood in fireplaces. Looking up into the colorful, calico, leaf canopy above me as the sun peaks through is a sight to behold. I feel a yearning to kick a pile of raked up leaves all a scatter to please that inner child that still resides in me somewhere deep down.
As I head back home, though I may feel tired, I count my many blessings as I see squirrels gathering acorns to store for winter. It reminds me of collecting buckeyes to play with as a little girl in Ohio. Buckeyes were plentiful but not good for much of anything. They are poisonous to people but the squirrels loved them. Squirrels are the only animal that can eat them without any ill effects. They were probably ecstatic to find my pile of buckeyes in the backyard to raid. It makes me grateful for the blessings of my home, my family, the love, and warmth inside my home. These are my treasures for the cold winter months.
God has richly blessed us with changing seasons to enjoy and remember. Each season is a goodbye and a hello. A time to make and share many memories. Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 (KJV) puts it this way, “To everything, there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which was planted.” Autumn is a reflection of this rhythm, this ebb, and flow in life. My Father loved autumn and maybe, these were his thoughts as he walked on those chilly evenings. What are your thoughts as we enter into fall? Take a minute and share down below. I would love to hear from you!
