Happy Thanksgiving to the states, happy end of autumn to everyone else. I wonder if this wasn’t the most beautiful autumn ever here in the Great Lakes, or maybe I was just paying more attention.
I look around at the multi-coloured trees in wonder. How come this happens every year, yet it is is always a marvel, always a pause in the day? When I first look up and see a tree has started to change, I feel a seed of excitement. It grows as the weeks go by, with each stroll or drive, watching the fields turn golden. Pure gold, the sight of it. I have lived in places with four seasons for 54 autumns. Still, it is always new. You have created this world beautiful, to change and grow in harmony. Autumn is the bridge to winter, yet I feel so alive. When the sun starts to go down and sets the top of the church on fire, I don’t know where to look. I turn slowly in my landscape to take it all in, ever changing with each moment, until the light has gone.
stowaway on my shoe
red leaves fell
Title from the Christian hymn, This Is My Father’s World
words by Maltbie D. Babcock, 1901
music, traditional tune arrange by Franklin L. Sheppard, 1915
View of the church of Saint Paul de Mausole, Vincent van Gogh