Fall in the bluegrass is a whole lot of wow. The depth of color, variety and dimensions of the wild plants and tall trees has an indescribable beauty. Majesty. I admire the creator’s work even more so when I take in all that fall brings. The cool air that smells like a big hug, the sunsets that blast the sky with unrivaled artwork.
Some see that in this season all things are dying, which technically is accurate.
But I would like to look at it all a bit differently, of course.
My marigolds are so tall and full of vibrance even after the first frost. Lovely on many levels. Though some of the petals are turning a slight brown, there is no denying the impact every little flowering head has made. Defying the winds. It accepts what is, but in a more welcoming way than defiant. I wish my outlook on life’s hard things could be just as graceful. Often times I am quick to die off emotionally at the first wink of anxiety. I isolate in times of criticism or fear.
How I admire the stance of my flower. So proud, righteously so.
Ever giving those big ole bees pollen and filling my garden with all types of buggy life.
This platitude prompts me to new perspective. One that understands winter lies ahead (for the plants) in the same way hardships are always around the bend in our evolving and enter twining lives. We already know what to anticipate and even harvest with our outdoor friends, but do we prime our hearts and minds readily for life’s next storm? Everything is working together. Blooming. Giving abundantly. Growing, changing and then dying. Each season has its own “amazing” and its own “yuck”. Just like our lives mirror different seasons we go through as well. May we be patient, bold and enduring just like my sweet ole marigolds. I wonder if I am the only one that looks at it this way?