It is hard to believe that this is the last day of August. The summer months seem to have passed almost unnoticed in the midst of heat waves and national crises. Yet nature is true to itself despite us. The song of the crickets still fills the evenings. The tomatoes have still ripened, and some trees already have a tinge of yellow in their leaves. Soon this summer will have passed although it seems we just welcomed springtime. Soon it will be autumn. Earth moves on in its orbit and every season brings its own gifts. It is reflected in life. Living each season fully, taking time to savor and to absorb its moments, will not let winter catch us unaware. It will enrich us with all that was and be a preparation for another spring.
The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.
Enjoy these last days of summer. Take time to notice the ripeness of earth and notice the subtle signs of the approach of autumn. Rejoice in the balance and beauty of Earth.
Become involved in preserving the health of our planet.
To every [thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.
Everything has seasons, and we have to be able to recognize when something’s time has passed and be able to move into the next season. Everything that is alive requires pruning as well, which is a great metaphor for endings.
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.
For millions of years, this world has been a great gift to nearly everything living on it, a planet whose atmosphere, temperature, air, water, seasons, and weather were precisely calibrated to allow us – the big us, including forests and oceans, species large and small – to flourish.
The coming and going of the seasons give us more than the springtimes, summers, autumns, and winters of our lives. It reflects the coming and going of the circumstances of our lives like the glassy surface of a pond that shows our faces radiant with joy or contorted with pain.
Spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one’s exuberance.
Autumn passes and one remembers one’s reverence.
Winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance.
The seasons are what a symphony ought to be four perfect movements in harmony with each other.