874. As September advances, the light continues to don a succession of gowns that grow more and more golden, especially in the late afternoons. ~Natalie Scarberry

Nature’s seasons don’t change in one fell swoop. Instead they keep us tottering a while on the edge of that which comes next. And so it is with autumn! Inch by inch and day by day she proffers more signs of her coming. Acorns are dropping from the oaks, the squirrels quickly snap up the nutty little treasures, a random smattering of leaves are changing colors, and the days are growing shorter and shorter.

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The light this time of year,
eclipses summer light by far.

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An eerie feeling is in the air,
as we feel what great artist’s share.

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They go there for the light.
They go there for the color.
They go there for the sight,
of the Sun dancing on the water.

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And we come too, to catch the sight,
of dust floating in the light.

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Slanting beams through cracks and seams,
lazy days in and out of dreams.

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A time for calm and reflection.
A time to study light’s deflection.
~Excerpted lines from a poem
by Ronald W. Hull

Light in a messenger’s eyes brings joy to the heart, and good news gives health to the bones. ~Proverbs 15:30  ✝

**Images via Pinterest

192. Magnificent Autumn! He comes like a warrior, with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Fall: bright flame before winter’s deadness;
harvest; orange, gold, amber;
cool nights and the smell of fire…
…everything we see is celebrating
one last violently hued hurrah before
the black and white and silence of winter.
~Shauna Niequist

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After last week’s hard freeze the march of fall’s foot soldiers revved up, and now more and more leafy encampments are being set ablaze.  What leafage is still dressed in green regimentals is fading fast to shades of yellow, orange, or hot reds cooled only by the occasional purple hue.  Though rare so far have been the firings of booming “thunder cannons” and the barrages of pelting rain, there have been, indicative fiery, explosions erupting on the eastern horizon at sunrise or westward over the rooftops at sunset forewarning the coming of fall’s final, crushing blitz.  The fallen victims of the earliest skirmishes are already gathering along curbs, littering the ground, and floating where waters collect, and the yet vanquished remaining leafy squadrons have not long before they too shall face their “last, violently hued hurrah.”  All is not as lost as it would seem however; for, despite the ever-increasing volume of casualties and the fact that the winter solstice is closing in, a measure of springtime miracles are already pushing up low and in warm safety under the autumnal warrior’s leafy carnage that’s been ransacked from on high by gusting winds.  Though but skimpily clad seedlings they be now, the deepening roots of larkspur, columbine, and poppies will hold their new growth steadfastly in place enabling them to hang tenaciously to life all winter long under fall’s stricken glory.  How could there be a more supremely, well-designed plan than that or any better a Creator than the Lord who devised such a grand and faithful plan!

Yet I call this to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning, great is Your faithfulness.”  ~Lamentations 3:21-23  ✝