It would be difficult for me to live in a place without seasons. I do love warm weather and sunshine, and I know people who love their homes in Florida and Arizona, but I think I need the change of the seasons in my life.
I love fall. I love bringing out cardigans and boots from storage, the sound of the high school drum line practicing for Friday night’s game, and the comforting flavors of nutmeg and cinnamon and pumpkin (even though pumpkin is too ubiquitous these days even for me).
But as the nights turn chilly, we are reminded that fall is fleeting. The fresh crisp air taunts us with reminders of its cousin, subzero wind chill, who will be arriving shortly. The lighter cardigans will be replaced with heavier sweaters, and then coats. My favorite season often seems the shortest, as the leaves hit their peak one day and are on the ground the next.
It’s a little ironic that fall is the favorite season of someone who hates change as much as I do. I seem to write here a lot about my difficulty with change (see here). So why do I love and long for a season that is nothing but one large transition?
I’ve never known fall to come without being chased by winter. But I’ve never known winter to come without eventually turning to spring. Perhaps I love fall because it reminds me that even the most uncontrollable change has a reason.
And perhaps I love fall because it reminds me that there’s beauty even in transition. The sunshine of Arizona is beautiful, but there’s something especially majestic about the foliage of New England or the Pacific Northwest to bring one closer to the grandeur of God.
Soon those hills and trees will be covered in snow. Soon I’ll be grumbling about pulling on my boots and I will long for sundresses and sandals. But until then, I will praise Him. I will praise the loving Father who always brings me spring. I will remain faithful to the Creator who rewards change with beauty. I will adore the Lord who is here even in the most difficult transitions.