Fall has officially arrived and the season is gently settling in here at my Kentucky home.
Nights are cool and opened windows call for an extra blanket on the bed. Days are warm with incredibly blue skies and the whitest of clouds. The sun shines and begs for me to come into the yard to enjoy summer’s last flower offerings. I hear whispers that there are jobs still to do outdoors.
Many of my morning singers have flown away, yet I still sit in my rocking chair at day’s dawn with the window cracked open hoping for a little song. Sometimes I am rewarded for my hope.
Jeffrey-Jeffrey, the calico cat who seems to have adopted us, now expects breakfast and dinner each day. He meows for companionship, just a touch or a pat, and I oblige. I rub his soft fur and wonder where his people are. I used to see him coming through our little woods from another neighborhood, but now he is here much of the time. And I wonder if he is missed by someone.
I miss our little dog, gone from us now two months. He filled a place in our hearts and our home. My early morning routine is just not the same.
The morning glories bloom gloriously on the deck. They were a surprise this year. Their dormant seeds decided to grow and bring their purple beauty back to me, a gift to be enjoyed.
My flannel shirt is out of the closet, my sweaters and scarves looking more inviting. Soups and chili and pumpkin spice lattes are calling my name. I need to bake a pumpkin pie.
I bought gourds at a craft fair last week and they put me in a seasonal decorating mood.
Summer holds like the leaves still clinging to trees. I hold on to summer with one hand while reaching for the coming season, not really wanting to let go but knowing there is something else, something new, something to discover and revisit at the same time.
Seasons come. Seasons go. There is a time for each one.
It is in the seasons that I see the faithful God, the One who created the plan and holds me in His hand.
All things change. But He remains the same. And I am thankful.