When the trees on our farm begin to coax themselves to sleep, the rural landscape comes alive with the beautiful colors of the fallen leaves, and this Farm Girl finds herself in a state of peaceful bliss.
The abundance of the leaves doesn’t conjure, yet, that necessary time when the vibrant hues of red, orange, yellow, and purple of birch, elm, maple, and oak near the house must be corralled.
If only for “tidiness,” that day will come.
But not today.
Today is a “basking” day.
“Autumn is a second spring. When every leaf is a flower.”
— Albert Camus
Basking in the Sunshine
Today, the puppies and I bask in the glory of a perfect Autumn day in East Tennessee.
Zeus, my Great Pyr and always on guard, sits quietly and majestically next to me on a mound of grass that overlooks his domain. Always at work, his eyes survey the property and what lies beyond.
But even he is not immune to the quiet stillness of the gentle breeze and the warm sunshine beaming down.
With a gentle slap of his paw on my forearm, he invites me to pet him, to show him love. As I massage his ears and head, his eyes squint a little, but he remains focused on his task.
When I stop, he gently slaps me again, not wanting the pleasure to end. I understand how he feels.
I feel especially loved by God today.
I imagine a day like today is something akin to what Heaven will be like: the warmness of the Son, perhaps a gentle breeze, and a peaceful stillness — everything perfect.
Autumn Season
In the distance, I watch as another bundle of white fur tumbles over and over in the grass, legs kicking high.
Xena, my other Great Pyr, is “basking” too.
Her fur is covered with tiny fragments of the various hues of the fallen leaves; her white coat becomes a canvas for a collage of multi-colored leaf fragments, a happenstance “painting” of nature’s beauty.
In the distance beyond the fence into the woods, we can hear the crunching of leaves underfoot from squirrels eagerly working to store acorns for the winter.
As the dogs’ interests are piqued, my mind wanders to a time when I, as a single woman, lived in a subdivision.
I recall the pressure I felt to maintain a pristine lawn because I didn’t want the neighbors to complain or the “association” to leave me a warning about my “unmanicured” lawn.
Back then, Autumn leaves were an “annoyance,” a bother — something to be done away with — quickly and efficiently.
Thinking back, I realized I spent 16 Autumns there, a place I dearly loved, but where I don’t remember the color of the leaves or even much about the trees from which they fell.
It’s funny how we allow ourselves to be colored by external expectations of perfection.
But today…today is different.
Xena stands up, looks in my direction, and shakes off what remains of nature’s painting.
She runs toward me, stops, lays her head in my lap, and rolls over, hoping for a belly rub.
I think about how blessed I am to be here on this beautiful farm with my hubby and dogs.
And for just a little while longer, we sit.
Basking in God’s love for us and for each other, and for the incredible beauty of the Autumn season He created.