We enjoyed Indian summer with several days of unseasonable warmth and clear skies this November. I watched the sun rise this morning, red and bright. The sky was on fire and late autumn leaves glowed in the low light.
When it is evening, you say, "It will be fair weather; for the sky is red.
"And in the morning, "It will be stormy today, for the sky is red and threatening."
And sure enough, a cold front approached in the afternoon with rain and cooler temperatures.
The leaves fall quickly now, crunching underfoot as I walk, covering the ground where they will shrivel and disintegrate. I smell the dampness and mold that rots and hastens their return to the soil.
This is death.
But I am not sad, for these leaves cover new life that will spring forth after the long, cold winter. There is a time of waiting, but the woods will once again be green and fruitful.
Nations rise and fall. Good leaders and bad leaders have their season of influence. Sometimes it looks like hope has died but it will rise again when winter is over. These trees have seen many seasons, perhaps 100, 200 or more, some good and some bad. A season of dying always comes before the season of new growth. Winter is coming, but we have hope for better things in the future.