Frost - Edward Hirsch

There have been frost warnings the last two days, not that I’ve paid much attention because we did not plant a vegetable garden this year. But the news sank in and I realized this morning, as I looked into the intricate green lace of the woods behind the house, that soon it would be gone. One quick freeze and the green would turn yellow overnight. Then, with any kind of wind, all those yellow leaves would drop, leaving bare trees sticking up in the sun.

Poet Edward Hirsch spoke of the change of seasons this way: We suddenly “feel something invisible and weightless… It is the changing light of fall falling on us.”

Life changes quickly, faster than I want. Even with warnings, I’m reluctant to let go of what has become familiar, comfortable, nurturing. I don’t make transitions well. I settle into a season and expect it to stay that way. Life, meanwhile, makes adjustments every day, some large, some small, and I would notice this if I paid more attention. Perhaps I should wake up each morning excited to see what will be different today, instead of what is the same.