Fall reminds me that all seasons must end …
That death is imminent…
That the last of something … although fragile and vulnerable … is often the most beautiful.
Fall is the hope that even with the end of one thing … maybe the best is really yet to come.
Below are pictures of my world these days; a world in which I’ve returned to my rural roots … a world of watching others approach the end of their lives on this earth, while I contemplate how I live my own days.
The other day, I snuck away from the jumble of errands and demands that define this season of life. With camera in hand … for the first time in many, many months … I went on an old, familiar drive … one of my mom’s favorite when we were kids.
Only this time I didn’t didn’t settle for observing life through the bug splattered glass of the car window; I got out. I breathed in the air around me. Walked up roads that few seem to travel any more. Listened to the nervous chatter of birds and chipmunks who are rarely invaded with human presence.
I pointed my camera at trees and weeds common to the landscape … I noticed them … found beauty in the ordinary.
I contemplated this alluring world that God fashioned with careful, loving detail, and I thought how comforting that in the midst of current political squabbles that have people sadly divided and horrific tornadoes and earthquakes that have brought mass destruction … there is still room for nature to boast.
It gives me hope.
Don’t agonize, feeble soul. Boast in the things that God has done and is yet to do. The story is not over.
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