New England in the fall has always been something special. It arrives like a long-awaited letter from an old friend—familiar, comforting, and full of memories you didn’t realize you missed. The days are sun-drenched and golden, the nights cool and still, perfect for sleeping with the windows cracked just enough to feel the whisper of the season turning.
Summer’s grip has loosened. The humidity that clung like a damp sweater has slipped away, and the ever-present hum of mosquitoes and deer flies has finally fallen silent. The world exhales.
But this year feels different.
It’s as if God Himself stepped into the role of artist-in-residence and decided to make a masterpiece. The foliage isn’t just colorful—it’s radiant. Trees glow like they’ve caught fire from within, bathed in the kind of light that makes you stop mid-step, mid-sentence, just to take it all in. Some leaves shimmer like they've been gilded by King Midas, others blaze with reds and oranges so rich, they look borrowed from another world. And still others look like they're on fire when the sun shines through the brilliant leaves.
Soon, the branches will be bare. The tamaracks will have their final golden dance, and then even they will rest. The land will quiet itself, settling into the long hush of winter. Snow will come, soft and steady, and the wood stove will resume its role—warming more than just the air, but hearts and hands and old stories, too.
But right now, in this fleeting window between green and gray, God’s artistry is on full display. It’s a season of letting go wrapped in glory. A reminder that beauty is often brief—but it lingers in the soul long after the leaves have fallen.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the point. Because some things aren’t meant to last forever. They’re meant to be savored while they’re here, and remembered long after they’re gone.
Everywhere I look, I see not just beauty, but intention. A reminder that the world turns, and with it, so do we. The brilliant colors are here for only a moment—just long enough to make us pause, take notice, and remember what it feels like to be fully present.
