Fall -- verb and season

I love the autumn of the year.  I have more sense of "new year" during this time than on January 1.  Which is odd; autumn is the time of the year that we see the coming end.  The harvests that have borne all summer are waning. The leaves that have given new growth are tired and on their last legs. The spring blossoms that gave forth fruit are now rotting or gone.

Someone once said that they hated fall -- it was the season of death.  I can see the truth of that -- and I wondered what it said about myself that I felt more alive during the autumn of the year than at any other time.

I have wondered about that many times.

Autumn is, for all intents and purposes, nature's last gasp. One last dance before giving up the ghost.

And I am, by my own declaration, "autumnal."

Hmm.

Make no mistake.

Autumn is full of beauty. And where I live this is (usually) especially true. The mountains can put on a show like nobody's business. The reds and purples and yellows and deep last gasp greens are beyond gorgeous.  The fiery, knock-your-eyes-out-glowing reds of the maples bring a sense of awe and wonder to my heart year after year -- I am thrilled beyond words -each-and-every-single- time I see them.

It doesn't matter that I may be more cynical this year than I was a year ago -- (and that I can be so saddens me more than you will ever know) - or I may have had a gut wrenching lifealteringIdon'tknowifIwillsurvive life event - or I may have even re-discovered love and joy and sense of purpose - no matter what my life has looked for the months preceding -

...........the red and yellow maples always bring me a deep sense of peace and happiness and joy.

I see them and I breathe.

Life is as it should be.

But autumn only means the end is near, right? There is only bleak and drear and no signs of life to come when autumn comes knocking.

Why then do I love autumn? How can a season that foretells such bleakness bring me such joy?

(to be continued)