Fire and Ice

F i r e & I c e

by Louise Bergmann DuMont

Today our mountain bursts with brilliant gold and fiery orange. As if in competition with this display, the evening sun edges the horizon with resplendent red. The radio commentator declares this weekend to be “peak season” for fall foliage viewing.

Despite my joy at this sight, an unexpected sigh escapes my lips. My beloved autumn is about to succumb to its brother, winter. It is Friday and Sunday’s anticipated rain will wash most of the color from mountain. Like a watercolor painting gone awry, bleak gray skies will become the backdrop for muddy brown trees.

I pull into my driveway, drag my groceries to the house and set a small pot of coffee to brew. I need something warm and welcoming to lift my spirits. A mug of coffee laced with French Vanilla creamer seems just the thing. I part the living room curtains and sip my caffeine-rich treat. The leaves dance their way from the trees above to the browning grass below and a crisp autumn wind chuckles, begging me join the game. I give in. Grabbing my jacket and my mug of coffee I skip down our front steps. The wind nips my cheeks even as the blaze of the dying sun warms my soul. I walk the perimeter of our property and think of my dad. Each evening he’d walk in our yard, plucking a dying leaf off this plant and tossing a stray twig from that path. He loved the fall, but no more than he loved any of the seasons. My cheeks flush slightly. Was it the cold or was it discomfiture at my reluctance to accept God’s new gift of winter.

My mood shifts. Maybe the caffeine kicks in or just maybe God allows the fiery colors of the landscape to leach into my soul. I feel like a girl of ten who wants to run and play in the setting sun. I want to revel in the passion of this last dance of the leaves. Instead I hug the joy to my chest and smile at the thought of a fifty something woman prancing in the autumn evening.

When I returned to the house the warmth of indoors seems almost stifling. Thoughts of the coming winter broaden my smile into a grin. Minuet crystals of ice and snow will soon cover the bare trees. Each branch will be transformed into a lace curtain set against a silvery sky.

Every season has its crowning glory. Every time of year has a clear purpose and was created by God, for our good. Yes, autumn is glorious but winter is coming. We can look forward to the first snow and finding God’s joy in that white miracle as well.