We’re now living in the ember phase of Autumn. Where trees once stood tall as flaming torches, they are now skirted ’round with embers…the last of the burning…an undergrowth aglow. I love this sight: a blanket of still-fiery leaves marking the circumference of the canopy. To walk into it must feel like walking in a fairy land, or like being royalty on a jeweled carpet.
It is Fall’s last blaze before it all goes gray to charcoal with only evergreen hints here and there. I know I will love that too. But I want to hold onto THIS, this ember-carpet pooled under near-bare trees. I don’t want it to go…can’t I stay? Can’t the leaves remain golden?
I know the answer before I’ve even asked. And it isn’t just leaves I’m thinking of.
Can’t we just stay in glowing years of health and youth? Can’t my kids stay young and at home? Can’t my husband and I remain healthy in body, teeth intact, eyesight fair?
The rhythm of the seasons is both lovely and arresting, peaceful and unsettling. For as each season morphs into the next, life changes, bodies change. Once flaming stalks of youth and beauty give way to skirted embers and then on to gray lines etched into white.
I’m living the roll of the seasons and at 46 I feel like I can reach one hand back and touch, feel, remember my childhood, my wedding day, my kids’ births; and at the same time I can reach forward to what I know must come.
This standing in a place where the view is so expansive almost hurts. Yes, there’s beauty abounding to be sure. But seasons past are to be no more and where I’m standing, though blanketed with jeweled embers, it is fleeting. It too will morph and change and I don’t know how the gray lines will feel.
All I can do is stand here, NOW, and enjoy the jewels I’m given.