My Sweet Friend, Autumn

I've been smitten by fall this year.

This is new to me. Typically by August, I'm dreading the coming months and their "na-na, na-na, boo, boos" taunting me because spring is too far away.

But this year fall is whispering secrets to me about life, love and God, and I can't help but smile at every tangerine, apple and banana colored tree I pass.

Saturday when I was taking photographs of fall, I had to stop and capture shots of a tiny red flame tree on Barton Avenue. Before long, I was lying in the tree owner's yard snapping shots and enjoying its beauty. Then I heard a voice say, "Hello?!?!" It was Tree Owner in her pajamas. "Oh, shit!" I thought as I jumped to standing. "I'm going to get arrested!" But she smiled when I waved to her and said, "We love that tree! Thanks for taking pictures of it!" So sweet. I met a neighbor through fall.

Today I watched a little girl play with her mommy in their front yard. As Mommy dropped leaves onto Toddler, Toddler giggle-squealed, throwing hands into the air and kicking feet as if the thrill was akin to riding a roller coaster. I witnessed play today through fall.

And I created my own play today. Driving on Halcyon Street where the brightness of Autumn lines the road, I noticed the incredible beauty of leaves flying in the air whenever cars passed. So every opportunity I have in my car to create a colorful leaf whirlwind, I swiftly drive close to the leaves and watch them fly in my rear view mirror. Gorgeous!

I pledge my allegiance to the spring. Autumn, however, you're becoming a sweet friend!

Saying Yes

If I were a leaf saying, "Yes," to the wind as it asked me to let go, I think I'd still ask a few questions:

Why is it that some of us fly through the air and land on soft green grass, painting someone's lawn in shades of autumn? Why is it that others of us land on the asphalt for tire wheels to roll over us or blow us next to curbsides where we commune with crushed cans and cigarette butts? And what about me? I'm going where you send me, but will my landing be soft and beautiful? Will I be the delight of a small child jumping into the fall, tossing us into the air? Or will you send me to the hard places--a fall people hardly notice at all as they admire the beauty of the season?

Of course, I'm not a leaf. I ask similar questions, however, to my Wind as I'm asked to let go. I hold tight to the branches, begging for answers before I move. Sometimes I move, and sometimes I cling to what was because uncertainty has never been my dear friend.

All leaves eventually says, "Yes." I will learn from their wisdom.