Crisp

This is my very favorite time of year.  This is the first time, however, that it's really snuck up on me.  My mind must have been occupied with other things.

Tomorrow I turn 29 for the first time.  Today, I revel in the warm, yet crisp, autumn air and admire the vividness of the change of season.  Autumn never sneaks up on the trees; they're never too busy to savor the shift in proximity to the sun.  The flora has an unhindered generosity in its willingness to slap us in the face with stunning hues that scream, "Pay attention!  The world is turning, and your Facebook friend count is really unimportant!  Come outside and play!"  Vibrant against a slate-grey sky, illuminated by the setting sun, Thomas Kincaid would weep at the inadequacy of his brushstrokes to capture God's perfect autumnal neon signs.  The air smells like pumpkins and caramel apples, macaroni and cheese and birthday shopping with Grandma.  The world looks like one last hurrah before winter.

It may be a symptom of my impending 30s, but it feels like time is gaining momentum.  What was a series of snapshots has become a timelapse, and I want to extend my gratitude to the trees for reminding me to stop and inhale the moment.  Lord, you do create unfathomable beauty.