Our first jack-o-lantern, made by Wittler from an "accidental" pumpkin we got from Mark & Mel

Our first jack-o-lantern, made by Wittler from an "accidental" pumpkin we got from Mark & Mel

I have always loved autumn. I love the jeweled trees, the leaf-bedecked streets. I love the crispness of the air, and the bite in the wind – an atmosphere where all facades are cleared away and the truth of things emerges.

 I love to look around and see what the seasons of creation have wrought – to watch as plump pumpkins appear on doorsteps, and woodsmoke begins to waft through twilight evenings. I love this time of harvest – of bringing in all the products of growth.

 I love to look out over the fields and see the jittery bones of cornstalks marching off into the distance, mellow-golden soldiers standing at the ready, anticipating the time when their usefulness comes to an end. I love the birds bunching from one field to the next, schooling and pooling in the air-sea. I love the geese announcing their plans to travel, their intention to shift their families to warmer climes and sunnier shores.

 I have never had the sense of depression or moroseness that others have about this enchanted season – I look around me and see celebration, wholeness, fullness, cycle – birth and rebirth. The endings encountered now give way to new opportunities – autumn speaks to me of that lull that always seems to follow bursts of growth – where we are given time to settle into the changes that have come so that we may start off again rested, and with a strong step.

 I like the sleepiness of the fall – I like that everything sinks slowly down, back into the earth. I like to watch this process of rejuvenation. Autumn is only sad if you believe that there will never be another spring, that there will never be another time of fecund growth and boisterous creation.

 My life mirrors this cycle – instead of mourning the endings (for they surely and inevitably come), I try to find the gift in the experience I’ve had, and look to the potential of the new coming to me over the horizon. For me, autumn is more about the potential and promise of the new beginning than it is about mourning change.

 I love the way that people seem to regain their sense of wonder, their childlike fascination, with the beauty and the majesty and the mystery of our world – autumn is a visceral, visual reminder that the cycles continue, the world has her own agenda. It reconnects us to something primal and deep – the naturalness of change, the necessity of change… and the accompanying promise of a new gift to follow.