Said a blade of grass to an autumn leaf, “You make such a noise falling! You scatter all my winter dreams.”
Said the leaf indignant, “Low-born and low-dwelling! Songless, peevish thing! You live not in the upper air and you cannot tell the sound of singing.”
Then the autumn leaf lay down upon the earth and slept. And when spring came she waked again—and she was a blade of grass.
And when it was autumn and her winter sleep was upon her, and above her through all the air the leaves were falling, she muttered to herself, “O these autumn leaves! They make such noise! They scatter all my winter dreams.” — Kahlil Gibran, Said a Blade of Grass

Stepping out with the pup, the acorns thudding across the yard, the crisp welcome of change in the air. A perfect day for an autumn tale, and Gibran’s classic fits the bill nicely. Why haven’t I used this before? Have I, and don’t recall? Everything is recycled eventually, given enough time.

We have a few weeks to go before the leaves really begin to fall vigorously. It’s still harvest time for most everything. There’s still time to track the changes, to be aware, to present. Dare wait a day and look at all we’ve missed!

I’m reminded of a rower I once coached who came from a different part of the country. Autumn in New England was all new to him, and he marveled at everything. Every day he would get to the boathouse early and look at a maple tree to register the changes from the day before. He did that for the entire fall season, from green and leafy to bare tree limbs, never taking a picture, just being present with that one tree every day. And in his shared awareness, I began to see what was right in front of me all along.

A lot of years have passed since that time. I wonder what ever happened to that rower, and all of those rowers, really. Reflecting on the accumulated distance, I feel compelled to be more aware myself. For the changes come quickly as the days grow shorter. What’s here today will change tomorrow. The cycle continues well beyond our time here to witness it all. Do you see?