Dumping Autumn

For many years, I counted autumn as my most favored season of the year. I believe that 1992 was the reason for that.

Having grown up in eastern Maine, I had always enjoyed vivid color changes in the fall, to the point that sugar maples, in particular, often projected sunshine, that was not there, by the brilliance of the orange, yellow, and red hues of their leaves in mid-October. My heart was frequently stirred by the gorgeous views that presented themselves as I drove to and fro.

When I moved to Georgia for college in 1988, I was disappointed by the utter lack of color in autumn there. It’s not that the leaves didn’t change; it’s that there was no brilliance to the colors. The hues were heavy and dull. Had I been one of those leaves, I would’ve been in a hurry to fall off the branch, too. And so it was, in October 1992, when I happened to be home for my sister’s wedding, that I got to see Maine’s autumnal brilliance once again for the first time in five years, and my preference for fall was cemented in my heart for many years afterward.

However, with age comes wisdom, as ‘they’ say. For I live in Maine once again, and while the beauty of autumn returns year after year, it is most assuredly followed by winter, which I do not enjoy nearly as much as I do fall. In fact, the shortening days experienced in fall and winter have led me to a new preference for spring as my favored season. Most specifically, May and June, until the summer solstice.

The days are lengthening and warming. Trees are finally greening, flowers innumerable are blooming. Sunsets are glowing with brilliant colors later into the evenings. Hope is revived. Strength is regained. Love is refreshed. Life is renewed.