Fall is probably my favorite time of the year. This, despite my mom’s comment that it’s the “season of death.” Recently a friend also echoed the same type of phrase. “You know,” said my friend in a sage like way. “In the fall everything dies.” I disagree, however.
We recently planted trees at the new home. I’ve been like a mother hen worrying about the trees. I’ve meters for checking water content and stakes to hold the trees against the wind. Homes on the western prairie don’t get the winds we get along my street. Tree worries have kept me awake every windy night this fall.
Trees are the most obvious signs of fall. Sure the little rose bush, left by the previous owner, has lost it’s pedals. But, we all look to the trees. When they change color the “season of death” is here.
The tree, though, isn’t dead. It’s sleeping. In climates MUCH warmer than our Indiana the trees will still go into a dormant phase. A time to rest and regenerate for the coming year. That old crabapple like that old “crabby apple” needs a few months of rest.
Fall reminds us of our own changing seasons. We need spring in our life for renewal, summer for growth, fall for change, and winter to really rest. If the trees were always different colors we’d hardly notice. If leaves didn’t fall, what would small children jump into. If season’s didn’t change we’d not have a reference to the past.
I’ve enjoyed this fall in the country. Winter is nearly hear, but that’s ok. It’s just one of life’s “seasons” and my favorite.
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