Fall is the life of dying.

For us here in the Northeastern part of the U.S., our summers are humid and hot; so humid in fact, that no vistas exist.  You can stand on one side of a valley and be hard pressed to see the other.  Some days the humidity is so heavy it partially obscures the sun.

As summer gives way to fall and the seasons change, the cool air down climbs from the north, pushing our humidity away and opening up the vistas … opening up the clear skies.

For many of us – northeast or not – the summer is the activity pinnacle of the calendar year.  We’re outside working on our yards, the farmers are working their fields and most of us are travelling on vacations.

The humidity and activity of summer obfuscates perspective.

Fall brings with it the changing of the leaves of the deciduous trees.  And with those leaves comes beauty.  A shedding of the old.  A dying of extreme grace and vibrancy before the barrenness of winter.

As the sun sets in the Northeast fall, the skies light up with an array of colors … like no other season, the reds, oranges, and yellows dance across the sky for a couple minutes, changing with the flows … immeasurable beauty that an artist couldn’t paint in a couple days appears and vanishes in minutes.

A wasteful artist is the fall.

Clearer skies.

Perspective.

A new Beauty.

These are the characteristics that can surface in the season of dying.

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