Autumn is ususally thought of as a season of death and dormancy. With the falling of the leaves and the bringing in of the harvest there is a distinct air of completion about the whole season. I have found however that if you look closely enough there is an unexpected richness and abundance about fall that goes beyond the bounty of the harvest.
The hydrangeas bravely flower and hold their heads up in spite of the two or three frosts that we have experienced. The depth of color in their foliage and the delicacy of the blooms proclaim a defiance of the coming snows.
The lawns continue to grow and shout out their lush green hurrah of the last warm weekend of the season. It will not be overcome by frost or dismal days, the rich green spears seem to cry out.
The leaves on the trees hang on until the very end and, though the colors deepen and surrender their summer shades, the suppleness of youth is in the bright colors as well as the green.
Even my roses defy the temperatures and burst into a final glorious show before yielding to the barrenness of the winter.
The gloominess of the day cannot dim the vibrancy of the show that God displays for my pleasure. "Sit here and soak it in," that bench seems to beckon.
I wonder, does the need to soak it all in, to save the beauty and splendor, infuse the young as well as the old?