The Gives and Takes

Fall has arrived and with it less daylight and more squirrels; less activity at the bird feeders and more leaves on the streets. The morning temperatures are cooler and the evening air more crisp. It’s been six days since I’ve seen a hummingbird, but I change the nectar in the hopes it will entice a passerby to come and drink.

I am surprised by the bright colors of the zinnia, typically considered summer hues. The pinks and the yellows glorious in the setting sun. My moon flower has been generous this year; I counted 31 flowers in one night. I marvel at the size of the blooms, given fully for one short night and then curled up to die once the sun rises. For such a time as this.

I’ve taken to an attitude of thankfulness. I walk one of my labs each morning and tend to notice everything. Sometimes it’s the trash thrown on the side of the road; sometimes it’s the weeds on the other side of fences. I feel offended that the people who live on the other side of those fences put their trash cans on our street while their yards remain pristine. I catch myself in this conversation and I tell myself to see the beauty. I notice a volunteer flower pushing its way through a crack in the pavement, the three crows who spend time in the highest tree tops, the bees that enjoy the wildflowers near the gully. In particular, I notice the goldenrod growing out into the street where cars have to move to go around it, and I smile.

Fall gives and it takes away. While we lose warmth and light, we gain colors that transmit both. It’s a time to open windows and feel the breeze enter our homes. It’s a chance to appreciate the offering of the harvest and to hear the crinkle of leaves before they release themselves to the earth.

It’s full of surprises, as overnight the gift of bright orange mushrooms appear on the lawn of a house on the boulevard. I politely ask Ivy to stay back.

And, while my cone flowers have long since produced pink flowers, it’s still time to receive the gift of late summer roses from a dear friend.

I greet you, Fall, with all you have to offer and with all you remove. You are welcome here.