Fall is like a time of respite. While the pine trees remain green and verdant, they’ve lost that blue tinge of growth they have in spring and summer. The chokecherry bushes dropped their leaves and their life has retreated into the roots that will sustain them all winter. The apple tree outside my work window is stubbornly hanging on to its yellow-brown leaves, maybe holding out until I bring the Christmas lights forth.
Most every living thing is getting ready to put its feet up and relax after a long period of marathon-like endeavors to grow and produce. Ground squirrels have sequestered under the earth, summer birds have flown to warmer climes, winter birds have not arrived yet, and rabbits are hunkering down for long naps in the afternoon sun. Soon they will cuddle up under the deck, in the thick grasses at the bottoms of the long rows of round bales, or in the nooks and crannies of the sorting alley and corrals.
Everything is simply settling down, waiting for a white blanket of snow to provide some protection from the cold winter winds. Don’t we all need rest? From our race to keep up or get ahead? From the decisions we’ve made and regret? From the loneliness of being unwilling to open to another? From the constant battle going on around us? From the buzzing in our brains that we cannot tone down? Settling in sounds good, sounds quiet, sounds like a burden lifted, like the soft breath of a prayer too long unuttered.