Autumn has always been the season that makes me feel most alive. Maybe it is the foliage, the cool winds, or maybe because I am a Halloween-eve child; whatever it is, it makes me introspective and prompts me to live a bit more passionately.
Despite my appreciation, I do not recall ever noticing autumn flowers before — the ones that hang on to their petals, persists against the cold ground and continue to open toward the warming sun. I guess the decrepit dying flora, a sign of change and a reminder of mortality, is what this season has been about up to this point in my life. But, for there to be blooms of bright yellow, pink and red sprung from the hard ground in grand multiplicity… than maybe life is not as final as I once thought.
On my drive across the North East towards the Maine coast this weekend, I noticed patches of wildflowers in full bloom along the highway: a perfect partner to the shedded yellow and orange leaves and the bare trees.
I was glad to see that my Grandmother still had lovely flowers in her flower garden.
Life is Beautiful!