The seasons are definitely changing in our area. All the lush green fields have turned to shades of browns. They even sound different. The leaves on the corn stalks rustle dryly with the slightest breeze. And there is a smell in the air that only comes from damp leaves slowly disintegrating into the soil.
Where fields were once alive and growing they are now dead-looking, dry and ready to be harvested. The soybeans have mostly been combined and farmers have now moved on to the corn fields.
As I stood on my porch I could hear the sounds of harvest going on around me. The sound of tractors, wagons and combines rolling through those fields of Iowa corn, harvesting millions of beautiful, golden kernels. It is the sound of compensation for the worry, sweat and prayers that have gone into that crop since the day the seeds were put in the ground.
I did not get a picture of a wagon full of corn as my husband brought them back empty after unloading them at the local grain elevator. Perhaps tomorrow I can get that accomplished.
The roads to town are filled with these same tractors and wagons making their way to the local grain elevators. Our radio stations even warn us to all be more alert as we travel during this time of year as the farmers move at a slower pace than the rest of the traffic.
There is a beauty to this season that is fall. The beauty lies in the quiet evenings that echo with the distant hum of grain dryers and farmers staying late in the fields. There is a beauty in the many shades of brown and the leaves that are turning yellow and beginning to fall and carpet the ground. There is beauty in the smell that comes up from the earth as it is once again uncovered after a field is combined.
So many things about fall are a feast for the senses. The colors that draw your eyes to the edge of the river, the red blaze of a sugar maple, the rustle of dry grass and withered corn leaves, the lonesome sound of geese as they fly south for the winter, the feel of moist dirt that falls off a newly dug potato, the chill of the evening air, the frost sparkling on the grass in the morning, and the smell of wood smoke coming from the chimney.
There is such a timeless feel to the changing of the seasons. Perhaps because it is timeless. There is a comfort in the continuity of this cycle of life. There is a comfort in knowing that it has been this way since the beginning of time and it will continue till the end of time.
It is a blessing to live in a place where the seasons are so ingrained in the rhythm of our lives. It takes a certain faith to put those seeds in the ground in the spring and wait for the harvest. There is a blessing in being dependent and it has given me a deep appreciation for what the Creator has gifted us.
May you see the blessing this weekend.
22 “As long as the earth endures,
seedtime and harvest,
cold and heat,
summer and winter,
day and night
will never cease.”
New International Version (NIV)