Fall, Leaves, Fall

One morning while having breakfast last week, my eye caught a delightful scene outside the kitchen window: leaves drifting to the ground like a mass of butterflies. It was a still morning, with little indication of a breeze, and yet the leaves had decided it was time to fall.

Seeing the leaves fall reminds me of Emily Bronte's short poem about falling leaves and the cycle of life. Even decay has its place in the cycle.

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

 I use to be a person who couldn't enjoy the beauty of fall for thinking about the cold and barrenness of winter. Jack use to accuse me of being sad in late June because the arrival of the summer solstice means that days will be getting shorter. And it is true. I do not like the long nights.

But, realizing that every season, both in life and nature, has its purpose, I am having some success in changing my attitude. Rather than sitting around in the winter, moaning about the cold and wishing for spring, I will enjoy the opportunity to rest from the garden and do other things that get crowded out when there are flower beds to be cleaned, and seeds to be planted, and grass to be mowed. Don't get me wrong--you'll still find me moaning about cold and wishing for spring. Hopefully, just not quite so often.