Into the Golden Hour
Originally published in Magnolia Journal

‘Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all! Flowers in the summer, fires in the Fall!’
from Autumn Fires by Robert Louis Stevenson

A change is in the air, a great mellowing is at work. It's in the wind, in the earth, inside each and every one of us. And somewhere, not far off in the distance, woodsmoke is seasoning the evening sky.

Each year autumn arrives all bluster, and like an old friend, invites us to come outside and enjoy a few more days of color and light. In the fall, we watch the sky. We listen for rain. We stop to watch the trees and their painted leaves. We pack away our beach chairs and unpack our woolen socks. We settle into our long pants and our sturdy boots and our trusty old raincoats.  We return to books half-read and sweaters half-knitted and favorite old recipes written in our mother's hand. This time of year, we remember our love of pumpkins and pecans; we pick barrels of apples and bake with buckets of cinnamon.

Each year, autumn reminds us to return to the routines that anchor our lives in time. We feel nostalgia deeply and embrace ritual fiercely. We go home again. We relive glory days. We gather together in September stadiums, around October bonfires, and at long November tables. And in the shadow of the dimming natural world, we tell and retell tales.

In this way, every autumn is another turned page, another chapter completed, a bit more perspective on the full story of our lives:  the rising and the falling, the discovery and the loss, the sacrifice and surprise. And isn't this the story of all life, the ends that follow beginnings and then make room for new beginnings? Without this rhythm, this eternal cycle, how could we ever be whole?

So, let us harvest all the light and life and goodness that we can. Here and now, during the sweet golden hour of the year.

Originally published in Magnolia Journal.