Yesterday dawned as only God showing off in the fall can pull off, and we knew that it might be the last day of this year’s fall colors. We also knew that we’d better not miss it.
And so thankfully, we didn’t.
On our daily morning walk we took it all in. The cold clear air with each breath, the brilliant blue of the sky, the ridiculously brilliant color of the leaves, and the starkness of the branches with a few leaves not quite ready to let go. It was almost too much to take in, but we knew we’d better do it anyway because given a good windstorm or the predicted rains, it could all be gone tomorrow. As could our lives, for that matter.
The drive into town gave us one more chance to absorb the beauty. More brilliant colors, more blue sky, more bare branches, more elk in the field, and more of nature giving us her encore performance. Typically I read something out loud to us as we drive, but not today. To do so would have meant missing what we might not see tomorrow. Or ever again, for that matter.
Gathering together with our motely-but-beloved-and-beautiful-crew church community, there was more to take in. More to be sure not to miss. Blue sky, Mt. Hood towering over the Columbia River Gorge, and our visiting speaker, a Buddhist monk from a nearby abbey, dressed in his robe that mirrored the fall colors. There was so much goodness, so much love, so much pain, so much grief, so much uncertainty, so much faith, so much resolve, and so much joy that it was hard to take it all in. Thankfully we did, because there’s no guarantee that we’ll sit in that space on another Sunday (especially during the NFL season). Or ever again, for that matter.
Driving home we couldn’t help ourselves. Had to pull over and take just a few more photos of some land that we’ve come to love in all her fall glory, because that fall glory could all be gone tomorrow. As could our lives, for that matter.
Back home, once our favorite team led by our favorite NFL coach won a game they were expected to lose, we headed outside with a victory spring in our step. It was the last day to finish up fall chores, getting the cabin ready for winter. Reflective stakes along our driveway for the snows that will hopefully blanket our little valley, taking down the yellowjacket and fly traps, refilling the hummingbird feeders for the few hearty wee souls that hang around after the temperature drops, and rolling up and storing the outdoor rug until porch sitting time rolls around next year. Those chores were one more chance to take in the beauty of what might be the last beautiful fall day for us to savor this year. Or ever again, for that matter.
Whatever it is. WHATEVER it is. Whatever IT is. Whatever it IS, it’s here today, so let’s not miss it, because it might not be here tomorrow. Or ever again, for that matter.
