I walked outside yesterday afternoon to find a pure and true chill in the air. Not the cool, untouched air of early morning or the faint September promise of winter to come.
No this was the real thing, the brisk, dense air falling in around me despite the bright sun, touching something holy. Somehow I can’t imagine heaven being anything if isn’t this, if the air isn’t just cold enough to awaken your soul with a start, if the leaves don’t blaze like fire against an ocean blue sky.
I could hear the trees turning in on themselves, slowing down the constant production, resting tiny chloroplasts in tiny cells. There is enough, enough for the winter – the leaves whispering tenderly before falling to the ground, the branches believing in a spring to come. The seasons turn, and the trees trust better than we do.
I climb into the car and the windows come down, because sun roofs were made for days like this. And the music echoes up from my speakers, from the voice of someone speaking my heart back to me – mumford & sons, the lumineers, the avett brothers. They’re sadness all mixed in with hope and joy, inseparable.
And I think I might cry with the beauty of it, with this rain for my desert soul.
It’s New York with my grandparents, feeding apples to the horses behind their house, staring up into those beckoning hills.
And it’s dancing around the front yard in Irving with my family, celebrating those few, infinitesimal flakes of snow. It’s circling, all of us, around a table laden with turkey and broccoli rice casserole, each giving our own thanks, remembering another breathless year.
And it’s family retreats, crowding under a shadowy awning for singing and communion, pressing in to keep each other warm.
Fall is here.
Can you feel it?The shift in the air, the oncoming quiet? The marrow in my bones is settling in, rejoicing, waiting for the winter ahead.