The middle of September brings the first whisper of change in the air, and days later a hint of gold begins spreading across the valley. The smell carried on the breeze voluntarily lifts my face ( like a hound dog on a moonlit night ). I know that scent; it’s one I can’t identify with words.
But my soul needs no words—it’s just Fall. Fall arrives softly, easing out the hot days of summer and staying just long enough to usher in the wonders of winter.
I wait all year for the brief flash of color, the smell of nature changing, and the raucous caws of the black crows celebrating gathering time of the peanuts and pecans. Fall is my time of the year. The change in the air renews me. It makes me want to drag on my boots and walk in the woods and explore old barns like the one in the photo.
In the photo below, the old bent tree used to have a rope swing that my children idled away happy hours on. The barn-shed, in the far back of the photo, heard its share of laughter and play during those summer visits to Me-Maw’s house. If old buildings could talk, this one could probably tell of serious conversations about crops and whispered secrets…
Do you have a favorite season of the year that speaks to you more than the others? Do you wonder why? I wonder about it every fall, but I can never put into words the way it makes me feel. I simply take pleasure in autumn’s short visit, and I give thanks that I was here to greet her.
Till next time, Keep God in your plans, and enjoy the season! It’s Mary signing off in🙂🙂