I get excited when August comes because I know autumn will soon be upon us. People often ask me what is it that I find so appealing about autumn? Is it the color of the leaves? The briskness of the air? The grey cloudy skies? The coming of the winter snow? They all point to the outward expressions of the season. With the exception of the holidays, I hear so many say, at summer’s end, that they would gladly flock to the warmer skies of the south if they could. But not me.
To me, autumn is a metaphor for life. It requires of us an accounting of what we have done with our more blessed days. Plants humbly say goodbye to their outer beauty, knowing what is necessary to survive, and anticipating a shortness of warmth and sun, they prepare to live off of the depth of their roots where the water remains unfrozen; held by an earth that is warm from its core. Likewise I have found that many who least enjoy the coming of winter, are not so fortunately rooted in the comforts of love, nor the layers of a blanket’s embrace that snuggles against a mind’s introspection as it contemplates the blossoms of the coming spring. Each year, I gladly give up a host of sunny days for the infinite wisdom that the seeds of autumn yield to my soul. -Neo Blaqness