Fall

Every year, when the air gets a bit of chill, the sun has a different slant, the flip flops are put away and the boots and sweaters are ready for wear, the soup is hot on the stove top, pumpkin and spice scents fill my home, football crowds tailgate and cheer for their beloved team and the tree tops become full of brilliant hues of orange, red and yellow, I fall in love all over again. I love autumn. I love the change it brings. The holidays are near. It means family, being thankful, giving service and of course good food.

When I think of fall, the perfect mental image that makes my heart fill with joy takes me back to my high school days riding in the Tracker. I see myself in my little red car, the top down, the air cool, a jacket keeping me warm while driving down a small tree lined road in Springville headed to the office. There were bursts of rust and gold in the trees and in my rear view mirror I could see the leaves rustle and scatter as my car sped past. Ahead a few leaves gently floated in the air gliding toward the ground. Halloween, Thanksgiving and soon Christmas are on my mind. Beauty. Happiness. Peace. I love recalling those fall days.

I am certainly not a poet, but I love the feeling these written words can convey so I searched to find the perfect one. I was surprised to discover all the gloomy poems that appeared while I looked. Then I read a piece by Paul Laurence Dunbar (who just happens to have a high school named after him here in Lexington) that captured my feelings of this lovely, beautiful time of year.
Merry Autumn by Paul Laurence Dunbar

It's all a farce,—these tales they tell
About the breezes sighing,
And moans astir o'er field and dell,
Because the year is dying.

Such principles are most absurd,—
I care not who first taught 'em;
There's nothing known to beast or bird
To make a solemn autumn.

In solemn times, when grief holds sway
With countenance distressing,
You'll note the more of black and gray
Will then be used in dressing.

Now purple tints are all around;
The sky is blue and mellow;
And e'en the grasses turn the ground
From modest green to yellow.

The seed burs all with laughter crack
On featherweed and jimson;
And leaves that should be dressed in black
Are all decked out in crimson.

A butterfly goes winging by;
A singing bird comes after;
And Nature, all from earth to sky,
Is bubbling o'er with laughter.

The ripples wimple on the rills,
Like sparkling little lasses;
The sunlight runs along the hills,
And laughs among the grasses.

The earth is just so full of fun
It really can't contain it;
And streams of mirth so freely run
The heavens seem to rain it.

Don't talk to me of solemn days
In autumn's time of splendor,
Because the sun shows fewer rays,
And these grow slant and slender.

Why, it's the climax of the year,—
The highest time of living!—
Till naturally its bursting cheer
Just melts into thanksgiving.

Most of all I hope I can live by these words on my count down calendar:

Each and every day and teach my children to do the same. This is the true spirit of Thanksgiving. Counting our blessings, each and every one.

Happy Thanksgiving. Happy Fall!