Where did the glory go?

Last year, utter "Autumn" to me and I'd be all bust lost in thoughts of the lovely crunchy leaves and the cider so pungent and hot it almost hurts as it goes down. I used to think of sweaters and firesides and books.

This year, Fall means cold. Since my first hell-freezing Chicago winter experience there is something inside of me that cringes at the thought of cold, and Fall means winter is almost here. The crunchy leaves will turn soggy from the sloppy, snowy sludge and I'll want that darn cider to burn so it'll defrost my frozen pipes. Those sweaters will have to be covered up by puffy coats, there's not a single fireplaces on campus, and all I'll have time to read are school books.

Is the glory of fall all but lost?

For the past few days I thought that my dread of winter had destoryed Autumn. . . until today. Today I woke up and loved the chill. Something in me said "This is a beautiful day." It isn't freezing yet, and I didn't have to wear a puffy coat. I got to be warm and cozy in my big sweater over my favorite simple black sweater. I didn't mind the sweaters. I wore a thin scarf I bought in Palestine and my trusty old brown shoes (inherited about 6 years ago on a winter retreat). Good pair of jeans. And I wasn't cold except for my nose. And I didn't mind that.

Fall's glory is in her bold, present existance--not where she's pointing. Fall, in its folksy way, draws us to the earth in her state of adaptation and shows the beauty of the in-between. It makes me want to be okay with the in-between. Like Emily said, it's not a time of dying. It is a time for Earth to show off her confidence in the process. May God grant us such a grace.