autumn.

Autumn in Hillsdale is not like autumn in my little home town.  This morning I woke up, put on a black dress and teal jewelry, and drove to church through an army of trees, lining each side of the road and peacefully but forcefully proclaiming their agenda of beauty.  The colors here are brilliant: a merry green changes to a vibrant orange, which fades to an amiable yellow.  It is everywhere: above my head, below my feet, and slowly drifting in between.  Outside of my dorm room, there is a wide, grassy area surrounded by trees bursting with this vitality.  It's the kind of place where you want to walk to the very middle, spread your arms, look up high with your eyes squinted shut, and spin and spin.  And then when you are done spinning, you want to sit down on the grass, cross-legged, and simply bask in the warmth of the October sun.  Autumn in Hillsdale is gorgeous.

Autumn at home is completely different.  There are a scant amount these beautiful trees, at least right were I live.  Instead, autumn is field upon beige-colored field of dried corn, waiting for a John Deere-green machine to methodically make its way up and down, back and forth, capturing the ears of yellow corn that are hidden in all of the expired verdure.  Autumn is a tow-colored puppy barking gleefully at a deep blue tractor and bright red grain cart rolling into the yard.  The beauty isn't just peripheral: inside that green combine is a dad who works until 1am to get the field finished before the thunderstorm comes.  When the puppy finishes barking, she races off to find her jolly ball, in the hopes that Mom will take a moment out of harvesting in her garden to play a little fetch.  The girl getting out of the blue tractor is my sister--helping Dad here and there by moving the tractor and grain cart from a finished field to an expectant field.

I wish I were home to drink it all in; to watch the beauty of a summer of hard work rewarded unfold before me; to give the puppy some love; to sit and laugh with my sister about anything.  Instead, I look up at brilliantly-colored leaves floating down, and am reminded that wherever I am, God is good, and He is beautiful.

(picture by Mom.)