Springing Into Fall

       It is a balmy 64 and while the leaves on the ground...their scents of decay wafting up from the earth...tell the true story, the birds tell a different one. Robins warbling, Red-wings whistling and juncos trilling their celebrations of life...as if the warm weather tricks them about what season we are in.

       Some say one ability that distinguishes us from animals is our sense of the future. Coupled with that, of course, is our awareness of time passed. So it is unlikely these birds are anticipating a new spring.

        That these leaves that cling to my dog's damp fur, just as they cling to the earth, will nourish new growth. The cycle of life.

     I don't particularly like Fall. I'm trying to get passed that.

      I'm trying to tell myself to live in the beautiful present that this season offers...the explosions of    earth's colors, the lacy patterns of bare branches, the time it affords to slow that manic summer pace.

      I'm trying to convince myself that every season has so much unappreciated bounty; that they all present opportunities.

          I'm trying to take these opportunities inwardly...to inhale the peace and the wonder they offer and  to make myself a better person for it.

          I see the reflections of the trees on the pond--reflections dappled with bronze and copper leaves. I want my soul to reflect this same beauty, this glorious harmony between it and nature. Reflect it outward in hopes it will trick other birds into thinking Spring has arrived.