Change of Seasons

It smells faintly of wood smoke.  But mixed with sweet, damp earth that never dries out.  The canopy of rhododendrons and mountain laurels let through dappled sunlight which dances on stones and gravel.  The mountain brook gurgles by, not rushing like a waterfall or dripping like a faucet.  It travels at just the right pace, knowing its destination and taking its time tumbling over rock-like obstacles to reach home.   It just feels like fall, cool with muted sunshine.  Not a city type of autumn with pumpkin spice lattes and bustling shopping malls.  This is autumn that feels like faded patchwork quilts, smoking embers, sticky marshmellows, and auburn leaves. 

It’s the kind of autumn that weighs on you like a deep slumber in the middle of the afternoon.  It makes you breathe slower and deeper, drifting into tomorrow – not racing.  It’s like a pair of heavy boots lined with fleece.  Or a hot cup of cocoa in a chipped mug. Comfy, slow, peaceful. 

Fall isn’t light and cheerful like sundresses and watermelon.  But it isn’t suffocating like humidity rising from pavements or sweaty like stagnant July afternoons.  Fall is heavier - like layered clothing and heavy eyelids after bean soup lunch.  There is something about this particular fall that feels unhurried.  The summer ended for our family with waves crashing on the shore, full of strength and shock and shards of seashells scratching our knees and our toes.  I, for one, welcome the break from the ratrace and the beach traffic. 

While our destination is unknown, in an odd way I am inspired by the ease of autumn in the mountains.  I don’t want to be here when the snow comes avalanching off the mountains by any means.  I’m not up for the icicles and shocks to the lungs that come with winters in North Carolina.  But I don’t think we will be here by then.  I want to close my eyes, breathe in this mountain air, drink some apple cider, and cuddle with my family.  This feels different, this new season.  I want to soak it up even as I hope to wish it well someday soon.  For now I’m going to swing on the porch and dare to enjoy the magic of the mountains. Even if our view is from the valley where shadows of doubt flicker.