Anyone who knows me, knows I love fall. I can’t wait for pumpkins, falling leaves, crisp mornings and crunchy apples, mulled cider, roasted pumpkin seeds, and the silly fun of Halloween.

In the waning days of August, I made an impulse buy of a ceramic Jack-a-lantern luminary and a masked hedgehog (named Nutmeg) whose legs dangle over the edge of the mantel. I will try to restrain myself and not display these until October. It will be challenging.

As I was helping our daughter move into a city with sturdy, broad-leafed trees, I got to thinking about how much I delight in the colors of fall and the leaves that rain down and drift along the way. I imagined driving those same streets in October or November when the pavement is carpeted in shades of yellow and orange. I thought about arranging a trip to visit a friend who lives north where fall colors are lovely. I remembered being a kid who would go out of her way to crunch through a leaf pile. (OK, I have done this as an adult, too.)

Some people are saddened by the fall. They adore summer, and falling leaves signal the end of a happy, carefree season. They focus on the fact that dark will arrive earlier and stay longer, that the temperatures will cool. For some, it triggers an unwelcome mood shift.

These falling leaves are dead. Their color, while beautiful, is created when leaves can’t carry oust their job anymore. The tree stops sending water to the leaves, the leaves halt the process of producing food for the tree. As chlorophyll production stops, the leaves’ eye-catching reds and yellows previously concealed by green are exposed. When the leaf’s job is done, the tree lets go and the leaf falls to the ground or is blown away in the wind.

The impermanence of life has been on full display in the world and in my life lately. I have friends and family who are experiencing significant health problems. Some of them are much too young to have this happen. Hardly a day goes by when I don’t hear of someone with a family member in ICU or who is grieving a death. Maybe because of this, I have been feeling slightly more fragile lately, even though I don’t consider myself to be old. The lingering COVID threat is another constant reminder that we have no guarantee of a forever spring. (Get vaccinated, people!!)

So how can I be a leaf?

I can no longer go a thousand miles an hour working, volunteering, and raising kids. Gone are the days when I could plan a PTA meeting, get everyone to soccer practice, dance class, and mid-week AWANA. I can never again work the 10-hour days that once were typical. But even as my pace has slowed (Gosh, this is making me sound old.), I can still contribute wisdom, beauty, and protection.

I can be a fall leaf in the world.

The National Wildlife Federation says fall leaves have many benefits in nature. “Many wildlife species live in the leaf layer as their primary habitat – including salamanders, chipmunks, wood frogs, box turtles, toads, shrews, earthworms, millipedes and many insect species. . . From a gardening perspective, fallen leaves offer a double benefit. Leaves form a natural mulch that helps suppress weeds and at the same time fertilize the soil as they break down.”

So as fall unfolds, I will buy all the pumpkins and sip warm cider. I might go really wild and attempt to make apple cider donuts! And I will glory in the beauty I see all around me.

My first name actually means green bough, so it isn’t a stretch that I might gracefully go from green to gold. I will be thankful for the season God has given me. I will do what I can to help feed those around me, literally and spiritually.
And I will try to do so with a splash of color.