The time between
A wet fall has stretched out the season.
Even still there are trees with deep green leaves
alongside trees with leaves that have long since departed
alongside leaves in their autumn glory:
bright brilliant hues or orange, gold, and deep red.
Often this happens for a week or so
then leaves let go in a flurry of color and wind.
But this year, with regular rain, this transition time lingers.
No one knows when to rake and mow
as they look up to branches still full.
It’s beautiful, like borrowed time.
Like an unplanned opening
a hole in the day
that offers a moment to stop and breathe.
But there’s a part of us that is uneasy with transition.
We like them to be predictable and on schedule,
with a fairly clear sense of what to expect…and when.
Transitions, especially the ones steeped in not knowing,
can be difficult to appreciate.
Try as we might,
those “leaves” are going to take whatever time they take
before they let go and drift down to ground.
And this season, here in the northland,
just south of where snow has already settled,
we are being given a gift that feeds our senses.
Not one is left out from eyes to ears to the crisp scent of fall.
So, too, are we being given the chance
to witness something taking its time.
Transitions, by their nature, are not places of resolution.
They are the time between, offering hope and discomfort,
sometimes in equal measure.
For whatever transitions are walking beside you this day,
may the beauty of the leaves be with you…