LOOKING BACK

Autumn can become favorite season

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, "To everything there is a season."

Though Autumn can be beautiful, in the past it has never been my favorite season. When things begin to die, it is like a little of me shrivels up.

I used to always get depressed at that time of year. I never did figure outwhy. Maybe it’s because I didn’t like the thought of winter’s coming cold. Perhaps it was because my husband used to go hunting in Colorado every October. However, I didn’t really mind him taking a vacation, because that gave me an excuse to take a trip. Sometimes it was just to visit my sister nearby.

One time, after son Danny had bought his first car, the three kids and I piled into his blue Ford Falcon convertible, with Teresa’s poodle who wasn’t house broken (and never did get house broken). We drove to Memphis to visit my best friend. I’m sure it strained our friendship as "Poochie" didn’t seem to know what all those newspapers spread on her basement floor were for.

Maybe fall’s drenching rains saddened me.

Where are those rains today? I would welcome them. For some people, fall is their favorite time, as colorful foliage brings a source of enjoyment and wonderment. Notice how we try to compare the present year’s color with past years? That’s the wonderful part of living in the Ozarks. Other areas of the country might have changing colors, but surely none are so radiant as our tree-covered hills, even in the dullest of years.

Fall makes me think of childhood days: Starting a new school year, walking in the crisp leaves as they gently fell to the ground,the first sparkling frost, days becoming shorter, gathering pickup loads of walnuts, digging coats from the backs of closets and deciding which hand-medown I would wear, milking cows in the cold mornings.

One day the cattle hadn’t come up, guess they got confused with the changing seasons, and I had to walk out in the woods to find them. Barefoot, my little child’s feet being hardened by going shoeless all summer, when I came to the creek, I waded in, and it felt warm to my feet. Our parents likely bought us new shoes each September to start school.

Springtime has always been my most beloved season. I think it has something to do with life. My spirit comes alive when everything around me turns green. As fresh rains restore the dead earth, my soul is restored. It’s like the dawning of a new life. I eagerly plant my garden and know summer will bring harvest, if the deer don’t eat it all. I watch the grass grow. Each day it gets a bit greener and thicker.

I can’t imagine living any place that doesn’t have four distinct seasons. As my kids grew up they learned to love those changes too. They especially enjoyedlong hot summer days Even my granddaughter appreciates the changing seasons. I have pictures of her sitting with her grandfather in a pile of leaves pictures of her building a snowman, sledding in the snow, swinging in the sun helping plant my garden.

Since my husband and I no longer work out, fall is not so dreaded as I look forward to cool mornings by our fire, working on jigsaw puzzles as snow falls down I’m at the age now where I appreciate each season almost equally.

My life is much like those changing times. I’ve passed the springtime of growing blossoming, being so alive My summer years brought forth fruit, the rewards of my labor. I’m likely experiencing my autumn years at this stage of my life and not dreading so much the prospect of coming winter.

Marie Putman is a former Gravette resident and regular contributor to the Westside Eagle Observer.

Opinion, Pages 6 on 10/12/2011