I became lost in the hustle and bustle of this morning. The household awoke with excitement, I assume, as I could hear the sound of what could only be described as stampede. Old hardwood audibly creaked under even the smallest movements of their feet and paws.
The sun is tucked behind a light gray colored cloud filled sky. Rays have yet to pierce through the gray blanket, and the earth is the coolest it has been all summer. I am delighted by the noticeable shift of the weather as the coming season of Autumn is the most magickal. Autumn for our family is our favorite time of year. After summer's sun has finally cooled and the garden is deep into its growth, we excite for the process of hunkering down and enjoying the year's harvest festivals.
My heart stirs as it feels the seasonal shift. Watching the seasons change brings me great joy and I take comfort knowing that nothing stays the same. Everything is always in transformation.
Early in the summer I was surprised by the falling of a single red leaf on a hot July afternoon. It was just sitting there in the yard, resting on yellow-green sun burnt grass. The thought of fall and color filled leaves had not yet entered my mind as we were still in the throws of Midsummer celebrating. Campfires were roaring, tents were being slept in and late night star gazing were what we were thinking about.
This single leaf struck a chord in me for in my own hustle and bustle, I had forgotten that the world does not just shift color in one day. Only over a slow period of time does the Earth travel through her stages, taking time for every part of the seasonal cycle to manifest. Spring does not happen suddenly with a burst of flowers all at once. Song birds do not simultaneously appear all together and sing in a rainbow filled sky. Instead, a slow shift occurs. Day by day, one by one, leaves on tree branches unfurl from their tight little buds and open to the sun. Slowly; one leaf at a time...
I had to wonder if this bright red leaf had been the first one on the tree to pop open early in the spring. I wondered if in its rush to be green, it had also rushed to be red, completely missing the fall season. But, no. It had not rushed. It had merely opened and fallen, flowing from one stage to the next in its life cycle, ultimately taking part in the life cycle of the dogwood tree from whence it fell.
I brought the leaf into my house and placed it on my altar. Decorated with sunflowers and bright sun figures, my altar displayed the beauty and warmth of summertime. Among the display, the red leaf sat next to candles and flowers, reminding me not to rush too quickly, but also to pause and take notice of small changes.
J
