Fall is not my most favorite season, mostly because I’m the kind of person who’s always looking ahead and planning for the future rather than enjoying the present. So instead of relishing cool nights and pleasant days, the beautiful colors and signs of God’s faithfulness in another bountiful harvest, I view fall as the precursor of winter, my least favorite season.
But a goodly number of people who I love and respect think fall is the best thing since sliced bread. And last week, as I drove through the Iowa countryside on my way to some speaking engagements, I found myself agreeing with them. The corn was firing in the fields. The leaves on the trees displayed the faintest hints of yellow and orange when they waved from the roadsides. The cloudless, brilliant blue sky glimmered from one horizon to the other.
But most eye catching of all were the golden soybeans, halfway through their swift turning from green to brown. Field after field shimmered in the sunlight, a vast pirate’s treasure of glittering doubloons, piled acre upon acre, field upon field. mile upon mile.
Finally, on my way home, I pulled onto a gravel side road and photographed the scene. How could I not recored this annual flash of beauty which would soon tarnish and fade away? For once, I ignored the approach of winter, shoved aside the tasks waiting in my office, and relished the moment.
Then, I climbed into the car slowly and drove onto the highway. Winter grew closer, my tasks multiplied in my head, but nothing could steal the treasure stored in my heart. The dry smell of autumn, the crackle of leaves, the soft breeze and warm sun, the haze in the distance. My golden, fall day.
