I spent the entire day with people—inside. When I got home and caught a whiff of the crisp, autumn air, my soul spoke up with longing to be taken on a walk. So, right after dinner, Bongo (our Australian Shepherd) and I drove to a wonderful nature trail near my home. I treated our walk like a fine meal, savoring each course that was placed before me.
First, the appetizer to my walk was a blue heron flying overhead. Most of you who know me know the significance of this bird. It is my favorite and whenever I see a blue heron, which I often do, I feel graced by the presence of God.
Next, to cleanse my palate, I felt the cool, damp air against my cheeks and hands. Dusk was on its way as the sun tucked behind the trees and yawned large, rosy streaks across the sky.
As I walked and because no one was around, I stuck my tongue out to see if I really could taste autumn. I took in the scent of the sweet, boggy wetland and the compost of decaying leaves.
The main course was served across the palette of autumn’s colors. My eyes feasted on the surrounding earthy hues accentuated by the brilliant red from an occasional burning bush and the vibrant red-orange clusters of sugar maples.
Best of all was dessert. As I walked toward the car along a corridor of trees with marshy fields on either side, I heard a clacking sound. I stooped low and looked across the field. There, only 200 yards away, were two bucks striking their antlers together. I held my breath, drinking in their curious antics.
Yes, you can taste autumn.