Harvest season, fall, autumn…whatever you want to call it. It’s my favorite season of them all. Summer begins its seemingly charming transition to fall. You can feel a crispness creep into the air. The leaves in the trees turn a warm, golden hue.
The change in seasons feels like a beginning as kids head off to a new school year, new grade, new teacher. It also feels like the end, the closing of a chapter, the plucking of ripe fruit from the vine that will be cut down so that its roots gain strength for the next fruit-bearing season.
Harvest season, in all its golden glory, usually brings a quiet melancholy for me as the change of seasons becomes stronger and more evident. The reminder of the passing of time as burnt-orange and red leaves make trees vibrant and alive. Then one-by-one, the leaves gently fall to the ground, and the trees becomes a little less brilliant, a little less lively, and then one day appear suddenly naked and in slumber. Inevitably, I’ll be looking out the window taking in the glorious colors during these transitions when somehow the song, Turn! Turn! Turn! by The Byrds, plays in my head on endless repeat “To everything (turn, turn, turn), there is a season (turn, turn, turn), And a time to every purpose, under heaven…”. Why, I have no idea, but it’s there. It always appears. And, it’s always a reminder that seasons are more than just Autumn, Winter, Spring, and Summer. There are seasons of one’s life too.
My own life has had many seasons. There have been marriages, a divorce, living with both of my parents and their spouses separately in different parts of the country, deaths, unexpected estrangements, best friends who’ve come and gone, moving across the country and starting over three times… the list goes on. My third move across the country happened quite recently, just a few months ago in fact. It’s been hard to say goodbye to living in the place I thought was my forever-home, at last. And now, I grieve its loss. But, as I have experienced time and time again, living will fall into place. I’ll lose touch with friends I thought I couldn’t imagine life without. People will forget me. I’ll forget them. Routine, community, and familiar places will find a way back in. Slowly, the newness will wear off and just be the norm. A season has ended and a new one begun. Like the roots of the vines that gained strength over the winter, a new fruit-bearing season will arrive, in time. To everything, turn, turn, turn…