Every season there is one perfect day, the day when I know it’s here. When my senses seem heightened to a unique intensity, so that I can capture what is happening around me with gilt-edged clarity.
Permitting what begins as a glimmer in the corner of my eye to become a distinctly clear vision of sparkling, glistening ice on the trees in the forest. https://www.icydays.org/ When I find myself standing back in awe of this magical moment; my first glimpse of that miracle of nature, the forest fairyland, a silent glistening fairyland. It stuns me with the knowledge that winter has quietly crept back in during the night!
Or the sudden deep, rich smell of soil, juxtaposed by the wisp of its first delicate blossom, telling me without question, that spring has indeed sprung again. Assuring me that in spring the light does, in fact, return; and that the end of winters string of dark, icy days comes with it.
Can we ever obliterate that first gasp of salt air, the music of surf crashing upon, and littering the shoreline with the seas’ trove of shells for our taking? Or the scream of the pre-tan burn on our shoulders, letting us know without a doubt that summer has arrived?
Since childhood, one of my best mornings every year has been the first morning that I wake up with the rich scent of crisp autumn air imbuing me with such fierce energy that it pulls me out of bed. Right out of the house, to see that the leaves I’ve vaguely noticed changing for the past few weeks are in full, glorious fire.
The first breath that carries with it the odor of firewood burning reminds me that soon it will be Thanksgiving, family time, and the holidays! When I know once again with glaring clarity, that the glory of the leaves dying with such exhilarating magnificence means that it’s time to gather my own harvest, my firewood, my flock. Representing the warmth of new winter sweaters and corduroy pants; and the happiness of being with my family, cooking side by side, and the warmth in my kitchen that doesn’t just emanate from the oven!
For me, with the arrival of autumn there is always that first moment of realization, a moment that rocks my soul and makes my spirit soar. It is the day that I stop the car by the side of the road to gingerly collect bags full of beautifully colored fallen leaves. I am never able in the heat of the moment to remember that most of them will be crushed before I can laminate them for a wreath; I am nonetheless compelled to continue carefully picking and choosing from the pile. My senses now decidedly swamped, I realize all at once that I smell apples too, and think that I must take my children apple picking so that we can bake apple pies and freeze them for the holidays.
Apple picking is the first of our families many treasured traditions that begin in October, and end sometime in January with the dance of reluctant straw pulling to see who ‘has to’ take down the Christmas tree!
Autumn is uniquely exhilarating. It is the beginning of everything for me, every year, and what a fine beginning it is. Its euphoria unmatched by almost any other emotion, it propels me into the busiest time of the year.