The “Sense”sational Season
Fall is in the air. By far it is my favorite season. A veritable smorgasborg for the senses, it offers a plethora of pleasures for the adventurous soul. I welcome with great joy the sensory overload that autumn brings.
Thanking God for the precious gift of sight, I revel in the grandure that is autumn. I am speechless with awe at the spectacular show of colors as the trees transition from cool summer green to the vivid hues of fall. Deep orange, golden yellow, fiery red, purple and bronze gracing city streets and county lanes, are mirrored for double the viewing pleasure in mountain streams and placid lakes.
Everywhere you look, homey decorations give silent homage to God’s bountiful harvest. Bales of hay decked out with fall-blooming mums, cornstalks, pumpkins, and cornucopia full of fall fruits and vegetables invite us to “taste and see that the Lord is good.”
I sit for hours in quiet repose, watching squirrels rush helter skelter as they gather the nuts that will see them through the winter. My spirit soars as I see the Canadian geese, V-shaped against a clear autumn sky, as they wing their way to warmer climes.
Windows wide open; air-conditioner off, the essence of autumn greets me, and I thank God for my sense of smell. Crisp autumn air has a fragrance all its own- clean, fresh, with just a hint of the winter to come. Subtle overtones of wood smoke waft on the evening breeze, speaking of families gathered by a cheery fire.
Nothing tantalizes like the scrumptious aromas that mix and mingle at the county fair. Corn dogs, funnel cakes, kettlecorn, apple cider and more. Each scent is a delight on its own, made all the more so when combined with the rest.
The best smells, saved for last, are the ones that evoke recollections of Thanksgivings past, with family gathered around my mother’s table. The savory smell of roasted turkey, spicy pumpkin pie, the tart tang of fresh cranberries, and buttery homemade biscuits speak to me of love, family and home. God is good. God is great.
How wonderful God is to have given us a sense of taste. I am a kid again as I relish mouthwatering caramel apples, roasted ears of corn, and footlong coneys at the fair. Food tastes so much better out in the fresh autumn air.
I savor the familiarity of Thanksgiving fare that only my Mom can prepare. Sweet, sticky Karo pecan pie with nuts harvested from the tree in her front yard. Sweet potato casserole, chock full of raisins, cinnamon and brown sugar, and topped off with toasted marshmallows. And who could pass up a delicious cup of hot chocolate after an afternoon of raking leaves?
How blessed I am to be able to hear the sounds of the season. I treasure the voices raised together in thanksgiving to the Lord of the harvest. I am calmed and soothed by the autumn breeze rustling through myriads of leaves. I love the rousing tunes of the band at a high school football game, and the excited roar of the crowd as they cheer on their favorite team. I am mysteriously drawn by the distant honks of migrating geese, wishing I could follow them on their journey. I worship in the quiet stillness of a misty autumn morning.
I especially adore the feel of autumn. As the days grow shorter, and the air gets cooler, I am impressed by this soft gentle season. I love the feel of the frost on the morning grass. I thrill at the caress of a cool breeze ruffling my hair as I stroll down leaf-covered lanes. I cherish the touch of my husband’s hand in mine, as he walks beside me in the quiet stillness of an autumn night. I take comfort in the warmth of a soft, fluffy sweater, and snuggling under a quilt by a comfy fire.
My senses come alive in autumn, filled to overflowing by all the season has to give. I am forever grateful to the Giver of this, my favorite season.
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