It seems Fall is finally creeping it's way down the rolling hills and mountain valleys into the piedmont and sandhills. I've finally turned the heat on and there's a chill in the air. Winter is coming, the nights are longer, echoes of death and hibernation are whispered about. And yet, there is still a burst of vibrancy, a last hurrah, in the brilliant colors of leaves or the beaming glow of family gatherings around tables, stadiums, and community grills. I can't help hearing the words of an Ed Kilbourne song running through my head as I wait expectantly for the tree in our backyard to complete its transformation. "This morning, outside I stood, and saw a little red-winged bird, Shining like a burning bush, singing like a scripture verse." I love Fall. I love the chill before the warmth. I love the giant harvest moon just above the horizon in the early evening. Everything, everything, everything is holy now.
Well said, my friend. The vibrant colors and invigorating coolness seem to prepare us for the days of winter.
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