I always admired fall from far away, pretending that we had some kind of a season change in Arizona, even when it was still 85 degrees on Halloween. Every Thanksgiving I tried to wear sweaters and tights and bundle up for the cozy holiday. That would quickly result in an outfit change hours later when my family would want to go for an afternoon walk post-turkey in shorts and a t-shirt. From far away, I could tell that fall brought about changes beyond just clothing. Because I was never totally immersed in it, I could not experience the full potential of change that a new season brings about.
A year ago while I was writing this I was sitting on the porch of my apartment in Indianapolis. The tree outside my balcony gently swayed in the breeze with the orange-tinged sky in the background. Some golden yellow leaves still remained, while others had collected on the ground below. Still, the branches of the tree were scattered with the dainty golden leaves. As I watched them hold on as the wind danced through them I began to understand the essence of change in the season. I saw up close the details of fall.
The weather cools down. Nature does it’s innate process of adapting to the chill. The leaves turn a range of fiery hues. Once they’ve held on for as long as they can, they release themselves falling to the ground to allow for a new start, a new season. The bark is left barren until it gets the cue to bloom and start the cycle of rejuvenation again.
What is next and new in our lives will bring a different kind of beauty that we may not be ready to embrace until it is before our eyes.
As I stared at the details of the branches and the felt the coolness outside, I reflected on my own life and thought about how I could relate to this pattern. It is easy to be constant in one thing, one pattern of living, but harder to evolve and see the time for newness. I think of the vibrant green of the leaves at their prime. It would be easy for them to hang on and hold tight to stay right there all year. It would be easy for us to be resistant and stubborn to what is next. Those golden leaves shimmied off and drifted away from the tree because something new was coming. Although it seems like sometimes we have to hold on, we can learn from the dance of the leaves. What is next and new in our lives will bring a different kind of beauty that we may not be ready to embrace until it is before our eyes.
What changes are you feeling coming on for fall? If there are things you’re holding on to, maybe now is the time to reflect on them and move forward. Whether it’s a pleasant surprise or something long awaited, I hope you find beauty in what unfolds throughout this season.
Love food. Love self. Love life.