Autumn is going to pass by too quickly. I wait for it, even long for it. Delicious Autumn is a bold description of the season from a quote I read. I thought it a perfect starting point to paint my own picture of fall.

The beauty is endless, stretching over all the land with a vibrant, clear energy, excited as one who wants to demonstrate their extraordinary talent so that others can partake of the gift.

Autumn’s scents: pumpkin lattes, apple cider, burning firewood, candles. Autumn won’t be outdone by the things we add to it. It has a scent of its own that needs no flame or cup to create a heavenly aroma. It’s as close to how nostalgia would smell if it could be contained.

Comfort food is cooked with old family recipes. Fashions get creative with all the layering, and boots are eager to make their way out of storage. Coffee has never tasted better than when the temperature drops off into cold mornings and chilly evenings.

Who can resist a hike when a light jacket will suffice until the warmth of the sun is enough to shed the layer, but not enough to be too hot? When the leaves underfoot are the unmistakable, intricate creations of God?

But why does the sound of flying geese overhead cause my heart to ache a little? Why do the leaves floating through the air as in a fairy tale cause me to cherish the sight and at the same time feel like I can’t quite grasp this glory while it is at my doorstep?

Fall isn’t a passive guest outside my window. It calls me to itself and begs me to participate in its splendor. Willingly, excitedly, I do with utter delight. But I cannot hold on to it. It slips through my fingers. Autumn teases with the pleasure of its grandeur, but promises to disappear beneath the sleeping grass and barren trees.

Take it all in, every bit that you can, I tell myself with almost a panic that I’ll miss it. Engage as it beckons you, I chide myself in my fear of it passing me by.

“Enjoy,” Autumn tells me.

Autumn, you are indeed delicious – you are extravagant. You demand attention, not for your own pleasure, but for ours. Thank you.