It always surprises me how, overnight, Summer turns to Fall. In one fell swoop the earth crosses a tipping point that lowers the temperature, of course—but also, in some soulful way—changes nature’s very attitude.

There is a releasing; a relaxing into things; a letting down of the “on-guard” demanded by Summer’s relentless heat. A maturing. An acceptance, if you will.

And then.

And then the most beautiful time of year bursts forth, the landscape painted in the brilliant hues of Autumn’s Poplars and Maples and Oaks. But there is jubilant color in unexpected places, as well. Unremarkable thickets come to life with Astor and Primrose and Goldenrod, singing and swaying with the joy of their own finally realized glory.

There is a deep soul beauty in the season that is Autumn, I think, the season of now, a season of becoming.