There’s magic in the air—crisp and blowy mornings, a world suddenly interlaced with dew-heavy, intricately spun cobwebs framed only by vivid gold skies and an array of leaves air-cast in a chaotic whirl of reddy hue.
This passage carries unspoken acceptance as we bid goodbye to lazy, long summer days with their basking sun and, in their place, boldly brace the chilly air beyond the snug coziness of our lamplit homes.
The seasons are a joy to witness and a gentle reminder that time passes, along with our part to play beside them. We excitedly look forward to celebrating the coming festivity with the promise of family and loved ones united momentarily and happily under one roof.
As I sit here pondering, I cannot help but mull on nature’s sweet lesson and the strength of her example.
Consider this: from blossoms and vibrantly green foliage, the tree then transforms into an exploding firework of colour—majestic displays of golds, burnt orange, crimson, and beyond.
In time, the leaves fall and scatter ’round us to rustle softly underfoot until we tread gently on and they return to the soft, peaty earth, leaving a skeletal whisper of their presence.
There is beauty then, in the stark frame of the tree now held bare without leaf, as it stands courageously through the biting cold and frost of winter—set boldly against a monochrome sky.
Somehow, miraculously, the tree then seems to know the exact moment to burst, symphony-like, with its comrades, brimming bud—the new beginning of life pushing forward to the enchanting tune of spring.
We readily accept this change in that it reflects our understanding of life’s seasons. We know of old this to be the way, and readily accept it. The seasons reflect not only the stage of year but, on wider scale, our own journey.
The flow from one season to another is seamless, offering both beauty and consistency—the perfect cycle from new to old to new again, while filling our world with glorious spectacle—a joy to be had by all.
There is rhythm and song in spring, summer, autumn, and winter, and the palette of colour dances before us like the expanse and freedom of an artist’s canvas.
The lesson here is plain to see: life is change and change is life and nature embraces this to its own sweet harmony.
We cannot and should not try to falter, to control our own change since, like the seasons, our journeys run parallel.
Our lives mirror, from spring to summer, to autumn to winter, and like nature, each of our own seasons have unique charm and cause for celebration.
Our conflict comes when we try to hold back our own transition.
When we fear change.
When we become uncomfortable with our altering surroundings.
When we resist change and growth in others.
So, what if we, like the tree, could embrace a sense of balance, to develop a more deep-rooted understanding of the right times to hold on, to let go?
What if we could acknowledge that, like the trees, we grow at different rates, and are unique in our strength and our appearance?
What if we could accept and have faith in the fact that our loss will bring in new gains—that we too, at the right moment, have capacity to blossom?
There seem infinite lessons we can learn from the seasons before us.
It seems that our own sweet surrender to change, like that witnessed and embraced by the seasons, allows us opportunity for peace, gratitude, and acceptance.
So, as I ponder and reflect gently on this cool autumnal morning, I remain absolutely sure of just one thing: there is magic in the air always, for those who wish to see.