Turn, Turn, Turn

There is no more denying it, Summer has packed up her beach umbrella and flip flops and moved on. Fall is slowly taking residency. The air is crisp and heavy with the smells of dried leaves and pumpkin-flavored goodies. For me the air also has a faint smell of melancholy.

As much as I love Fall, I also have a hard time with this transition. I have to work hard to stay in the moment throughout Fall and not think about what is right around the corner.

My reluctance to move on is highlighted in the picture above.

I can’t seem to say good-bye to my garden. My planters on the patio are having a hard time saying good-bye to me too. They just keep growing. Every couple days, I think I should go out and empty them in preparation for Winter, but I can’t. So, I placed a small pumpkin in each one to gently signal to them and me, that it’s time to move on.

This transition to Fall was the focus of a Firstfruit’s member event a couple weeks ago. We gathered at my house for a Forest Therapy session. Our guide, Allison, encouraged us to go off in the woods and reflect on different aspects of our oneness with nature. After our time of reflection, we gathered together to share our thoughts and impressions. We told our stories of the impact God’s creation had on us. Allison then took our stories and wove them into one in the form of the poem below.

Enjoy our woven story and this predictable, yet awe-inspiring time of year, when God gifts us with a reminder of His love in the beauty and the comforting predictability of nature.

Joan

SEPTEMBER
While we find ourselves a little fearful to
Trace the veins of a leaf
That look eerily similar to our own,
September unearths many treasures,
The scent of the leaf’s underside
Transporting us back to younger years,
Connecting the veins of a life
To a greater whole.

Reclining like Cleopatra
With trees fanning us luxuriously,
We hope for grapes from the Harvest Moon,
As we relax into being ourselves
Just being—no doing, no deciding.
There’s no urgency to pick paint colors
As the trees have already chosen
Colors that will be revealed very soon.

Squirrels visible through the canopy
Racing up and down trunks
Instinct telling them when enough is enough
In their nut-filled caverns.
Deer peek through trees
Wondering why we’re holding owl feathers
And acorns and rocks and a big stick,
Envious of treasures we’re going to take home.

How it feels to be alive this morning!
The mesh of Saturday sounds
With the sounds of our sanctuary.
Tears falling as we hover on the edge
Between Summer and Fall,
With pruning shears poised
And ready to write new stories
On fresh sheets of loose-leaf.

It’s both a melancholy feeling
And a feeling of new beginnings,
Knowing that when we die
These trees will still be here
If perhaps hollowed out, bark stripped, and leafless,
But still, bending toward the next generation,
Looking down
While they look up.