September is almost over and I have not added to this blog in several weeks. You'd think after 18 years in the grand state of Texas I'd be used to hot brown Septembers, but, no, I still cannot adjust. Stubborn, you say? Well, yes. Always have been and I don't see that changing anytime soon. September still means to me cooler weather, sweaters, leaves goldening on the branch to fall to the ground in October and November, and then of course, raking a big pile of leaves and jumping into them in anticipation of the snow mounds to come in December and January. September means new notebooks and pens, new books and back to school trying to soak it all in. September means a fresh start after the stifling days of August. Alas, I live in Texas where Autumn is just a fairy tale concept stolen from lively photos of other, far away places.
You'd think, wouldn't you, that after 18 years in this warm (okay, hot) climate I would have come to appreciate the mild winters -- and yes I do. That snow that was so fun to jump in and build igloos and snow forts turns to black slush and the glamour of the white crystals that fall from the sky are not as romantic when you are an adult trying to drive on the icy and slushy roads.
So, I long for cool crisp days with that sweet smell so different than summer in the breeze. If you are a cynic you might say that the goldening leaves are a sign of death and decay. But it all depends on how you look at it. They will always be to me a promise of renewal, a new start, a glorious ending to the full cycle of the years we are given.
Most importantly, though, those magnificent trees of glorious golds and reds and oranges are beautiful. And missing such a glimpse of heaven is my bow to the wonders of God.