I may have said it before, but I will say it
again, this is my absolute favorite time of year. The cold weather, apple
cider, comfy sweaters, pile of blankets on the bed, bright colors. Every leaf a
flower. Pumpkins, rain, leaves, wool socks, long walks. The list goes on and on
and on.
And it is all given to us by God. Only He
could make the leaves turn so vivid. Only He can change the seasons. Only He
can help me find contentment.
I count my gifts and praise Him.
Every year about this time, the leaves on the ground and blowing from the trees, I also think about Felix Salten's Winter.
"The
leaves were falling from the great oak at the meadow's edge. They were falling
from all the trees. One branch of the oak reached high above the others and
stretched far out over the meadow. Two leaves clung to it's very tip.
"It
isn't the way it used to be." said one leaf to the other.
"No,"
the other leaf answered. "So many of us have fallen off tonight we're
almost the only ones left on the branch."
"You
never know who's going to go next," said the first leaf.
"Even
when it was warm and the sun shone, a storm or a cloudburst would come
sometimes, and many leaves were torn off, though they were still very young.
You never know who's going to go next."
"The
sun hardly shines now," sighed the second leaf," and when it does, it
gives no warmth. We must have warmth again."
"Can
it be true," said the first leaf, "can it really be true, that others
come to take our places when we're gone and after them still others, and more
and more?"
"It
really is true," whispered the second leaf. "We can't even begin to
imagine it, it's beyond our powers."
"It
makes me very sad," added the first leaf.
They were
very silent a while.
Then the
first leaf said quietly to itself, "Why must we fall?"
The
second leaf asked, "What happens to us when we have fallen?"
"We
sink down ."
"What
is under us?"
The first
leaf answered, "I don't know. Some say one thing, some another, but nobody
knows."
The
second leaf asked, "Do we feel anything, do we know anything about
ourselves when we're down there?"
The first
leaf answered, "Who knows? Not one of all those down there has ever come
back to tell us about it."
They were
silent again.
Then the
first leaf said tenderly to the other, "Don't worry so much about it
you're trembling."
"That's
nothing," the second leaf answered, I tremble at the least thing now. I
don't feel so sure of my hold as I used to."
"Let's
not talk any more about such things," said the first leaf.
The other
replied, "No, we'll let it be. But-what else shall we talk about?"
It was
silent, but went on after a little while,
"Which
of us will go first?"
"There's
still plenty of time to worry about that," the other leaf said
reassuringly. "Lets remember how beautiful it was, how wonderful, when the
sun came out and shone so warmly that we thought we'd burst with life. Do you
remember? And the morning dew and the mild and splendid nights?
"Now the
nights are dreadful," the second leaf complained, " and there is no
end to them."
"We
shouldn't complain, " said the first leaf gently. "We've outlived
many, many others."
"Have
I changed much?" asked the second leaf shyly.
"Not
in the least," the first leaf said. "You think so only because I've
gotten to be so yellow and ugly. But it's different in your case."
"You're
fooling me," the second leaf said.
"No,
really," the first leaf answered eagerly, "believe me, you're as
lovely as the day you were born. Here and there may be a little yellow spot.
But it's hardly noticeable and makes you only more beautiful, believe me."
"Thanks,"
whispered the second leaf, quite untouched. I don't believe you, not
altogether, but I thank you because you're so kind. You've always been so kind
to me. I'm just beginning to understand how kind you are.
"Hush,"
said the other leaf, and kept silent itself, for it was too troubled to talk
any more.
Then they
were both silent. Hours passed. A moist wind blew, cold and hostile, through
the treetops.
"Ah,
now," said the second leaf, "I ..."
Then it's
voice broke off. It was torn from it's place and spun down.
Winter
had come.
I wasn't
intending to share it all but I couldn't stop myself.
She's either 24 or a hobbit |
And now for some lovely pictures from this morning.
Pouring rain and gusting winds, Marshall singing beside me trying to get me to take a picture,it is a beautiful fall afternoon.
You are my God, and I will give You thanks,
You are my God; I will exalt You.
Psalm 118:28
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