Hello, September
Reflections on Autumn's Beauty and the Dance of a New Season
“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.”
Gen. 8:22, ESV
Hello September!
You’re here! You’ve arrived right on schedule, no matter how much I tried to ignore you. You’re always delightfully discreet, sneaking in mid-August, but you never escape my notice.
I meet you with a mixture of bittersweet joy; you, on the other hand, have always welcomed me with open arms (even when my back was turned!) You invite me into your dance even though I am a reluctant partner.
I join you in your first sashay on the dance floor--that one chameleon leaf you enticed to let go of its twiggy perch, gliding ever so gently down until it settles easily onto the rocky road. Soon it will call for others to follow, each in their own peculiar flight. I take note of our September practice steps, as the hot summer days fade earlier and cooler each twilight.
We pause our dance—only long enough for a long holiday weekend—and after that, your waltz gains momentum! More leaves light up with your joy, and dance subtly as you breeze past. Those glorious heralds nosedive to the ground, laying a red carpet that beckons me out the next morning. You are a skilled teacher, and almost against my will, my soul is drawn into the music.
We take a twirl around the closest park. Your glimmering rays of sunshine lengthen across the vista of the lake. Your dance leads me right past the goldenrod, Queen Anne’s lace, and creeping thistle; you lend them brushstrokes of deep purple, golden yellow, and amber neutrals. I breathe deeply and revel in the beauty.
Oh, how deftly your feet turn in this dance! It’s just the warm-up, yet you enthusiastically drop colorful scarves to announce your arrival. We see little brown leaves strewn like cinnamon across the lawns, kicked up by your late-night disco. Fiery pink sunsets show off earlier every night, as you anoint yourself with the loamy smell of dying earth.
Hello, September.
Dancing through Memories
This first week of your graceful waltz brings a mixed bag of emotions, since you always come with a memory book that is mine and mine alone. If I am curious and courageous, I can decide to open it.
But first, there is a fresh page to add, a grief to dance through--a recent loss, a house of memories to sift through and review. My pen feels surprisingly heavy, but I make some attempts to bleed fresh ink onto the page. You will need to let it dry before it can become part of my memory book.
Then you spin and nudge me again. We open the book together.
The first page of September memories feels less shocking some six years later, reflecting grief over the sudden loss of a father after a troubling year. Why did your dance not include warning bells? There is more to this story later in the week, and I quickly glance away. I don’t want to miss your beautiful dance moves by becoming mired in the muddy pages here.
Your breeze turns the page, and it is my parents’ anniversary, over sixty years ago now. The pictures in this chapter are familiar, and I smile, knowing they are both happier since their celebration has moved upstairs.
Another windy page turn two days later brings to mind foggy remembrances of a stormy wedding day. Your angry, thunderous powwow seemed to predict the doom of this marriage even before it began. I walk away, not eager to review this page, wishing I could simply edit this chapter out. But your memory bank holds them all.
At the end of this first week of September, there is a teary-ness as I move against your turns all day. What is wrong with my dance feet? This fall-like day is gorgeously on display, yet I cannot partner with you. Why is that? You gently turn the page that evening to clue me in—a reminder of a burial day, when we placed Dad into the still-warm earth. You shone gloriously that day while we stood bravely through the Taps. Even then, I recognized your eternal dance in the midst of all the mourning.
The Turn
I rejoice when the first week of my September memory book is behind us—now we pivot toward memories much more delightful! I turn the pages faster now, enamored with the scenes: running through the crinkly corn stalks, trekking through glowing wooded pathways. There’s the apple picking and tasting, the sticky juice drawing bees galore; overheated children jumping over hay bales, tractor-pulling hayrides bouncing us around.
More page turning brings fall-like nights full of football games, band practices, and bonfires. The crickets’ non-stop chirping creates a peaceful background rhythm, adding depth to your music. We take time out to sit in the darkness and enjoy.
Soon it will be time to close this year’s September memory book, and I wonder what the future holds in store. What pages might be added in future rounds of our dance? Whether bitter or sweet, I commit to dance with you through them all.
The Spin
Soon you will perform a full-fledged tango right into October! Full of Indian summer days and sweatshirt cool nights, your wind gusts will spread continuous leaf graffiti throughout the neighborhood. There will be gloriously reddish-orange days that reflect fluorescent with your sunshine, and I will once again believe I’ve been transported into the heavenlies.
Like always, I’m fully aware of how this dance will end. You will spin me away, and I will stand amazed at how quickly our show is over, leaving me behind panting, out of breath. You will bow as you retreat backwards, and I will manage to curtsy back, reluctant to say goodbye, yet thankful you enticed me (once again!) into the dance.
But for today, I will simply say…
Hello, September.
For Worship:
Lauren Daigle singing “Let It Be A Hallelujah”
*Photos: 1) by Katie Mourn and 2) by Blessing Ri and 3) lilartsy on Unsplash
Jen, this is such a beautiful piece. I absolutely love FALL!
Love this🙏🙏🙏😎