Autumn

I can tell you that the days are still warm and humid enough to convince anyone that it is summer.

And yet, on occasion the wind seems to shift direction and blow from the north, carrying with it not the suck-the-breath-from-your-lungs hot, moist breeze off the ocean, but the hint of cooler temperatures somewhere far, far up north.

In fact, as I walked this morning, the only way I knew autumn was approaching was the way the fallen pine needles, brown and sharp, snapped at my ankles as I walked.

There are still flowers blooming, but some trees and brush have clearly moved on.

Remember the picture I took the other day of the hibiscus, the one planted in memory of the previous pastor's wife, the one that I had never seen bloom.  For one day it was beautiful and full and righteous, puffed with pride.

Today it is gone.

This is all that remains, the wilted petals resting among the other castoffs of summer.

And yet, we need not mourn for long.

Autumn and then winter and then rebirth again in spring.