Excerpt from When the Frost is on the Punkin, by Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley, 1849–1916

Autumn is gently turning down the light on the brilliant joys of summer, and, in its stead, the month of October offers us some of the most vibrant delights of the year.

Gone are the warm days of July and August, when the bright morning sun has risen before us. Now we awaken to refreshingly crisp, cool temperatures while it’s still dark outside. Once the sunshine appears, however, we are treated to sparkling signs that Jack Frost has been here: overnight, he has left crystal traces of his lacy handiwork artistically etched on our windowpanes.

That mischievous elfish creature has also lightly nipped the green leaves of the trees with his silver paintbrush and magically transformed them into a rainbow of dazzling colors: flaming crimson, burnt orange, sunny yellow, and glowing amber. Finally, Jack Frost has begun to loosen the stems of the leaves, releasing them to dance lightly through the air and flutter silently to the ground.

Ah! Golden October. It has its own characteristic charm. Time to retrieve from the back of the closet those warm sweaters, scarves and gloves, go outside, and enjoy! Just take a look at that deep azure sky filled with flocks of birds… Our wise feathered friends are gathering together to fly southward towards more temperate climes.

In anticipation of the cold weather ahead, the squirrels are busily stocking their larders with black walnuts, hazelnuts, and assorted acorns from hardy oaks. Can you detect the pungent aroma of drifting wood smoke from bonfires in the distance? Mmmmmm . . . There’s a definite nip in the air, and restless Mr. Wind can be heard whistling through the trees.

Out in the country, the grain has ripened, and fields have turned to brown, but pumpkins with their familiar orange-yellow hue and tan-colored corn stalks bundled together add lively splashes of color here and there. Sometimes standing guard nearby is a comic scarecrow, sporting denim overalls with red paisley patches and sandy-beige straw hat.

The flowers of summer have almost faded away, but a deep orange marigold and hardy chrysanthemums, in rust and purple, remain in my garden patch to brighten the barren scene.

Fallen leaves form a soft carpet under my feet as I shuffle along, their crunch and rustle crackling with every step. I pass by houses festooned with festive ears of Indian corn on the front doors, and, as evening begins, jolly Jack-O-Lanterns aglow with candlelight appear on porch steps and peer out of windows.

My thoughts turn to hot chocolate, roasted marshmallows, crunchy apples, sweet cider, and pumpkin pie fresh from the oven. In the deepening twilight, I feel the invigorating chill of the night air and eagerly head for home, to curl up with a good book near my blazing fireplace.

Nature, as in all of life, has a beginning and then an end, but, as James Whitcomb Riley suggested in his famous poem “When The Frost is on the Punkin,” excerpted above, this should not be cause for melancholy. When days turn cool, and winter’s on the horizon, we may wish to hang on to the warmth of summer–its lush green leaves, beautiful birds, and busy bees–but if we open our eyes to the fresh wonders of autumn, we realize there is an abundance of reasons to be just as happy now. Every season is one to be savored.

As with the seasons, the substance of our lives is also transitory. As one chapter ends, we may look back with longing and wish for the “good old days,” but it’s well to remember that other experiences, different, of course, but equally pleasurable, are still to be discovered and appreciated on the path ahead.

The splendor of the summer months is over and gone, but take heart. In its place, the magnificence of October has arrived. It’s time to gather up our happy memories and prepare for the exciting, new days to come.

“September days are here,
With summer’s best of weather,
And autumn’s best of cheer.”

-Helen Hunt Jackson, American novelist and poet, 1830-1885

Have you noticed it? Subtle changes are in the air. There’s a feeling of anticipation, excitement, and new beginnings. The sun is slanting a little differently now . . . casting longer shadows. Days are growing shorter, with more comfortable temperatures, evenings decidedly cooler. Summer is waning and quickly passing away. Autumn is upon us.

The general pace of living seems to have picked up from the “lazy days” of June and July. Most of the vacationers are home now and back to work. Bright yellow school buses can be seen again on the streets, for the children have returned to classes, proudly armed with new pencils, pristine notebooks, and high aspirations. “This fall is going to be the best one ever,” my young friend Sarah assured me recently. A determined third-grader who finds decimals and fractions a bit of a challenge, Sarah nonetheless vows she’ll master those concepts this year. “I’m going to be a math teacher when I grow up,” Sarah proclaims, “so I need to know this stuff.”

For many of us, once we reach Labor Day, the real “New Year” begins. Life gears up again in earnest. It seems an auspicious time, a time for making plans. Football practices and games, school programs, and band rehearsals begin to fill our weekly calendars. Fall festivals appear on the scene, and organizations are scheduling their first meetings of the season.

Retailers have put away their racks of beach towels, sunglasses, and flip-flops until next spring. In their places, we now find rows of potted chrysanthemums in yellows, bronzes, purples, and burgundy’s, as well as eye-catching displays of fall decorations, including bundled ears of variegated Indian corn and ornately-twisted garlands of burnt orange bittersweet. The coming season is clearly evident in the packages of candy corn and Halloween masks that already fill the store shelves.

Out and about, I see signs that Nature also realizes a shift is in the offing. Flocks of wild geese with their familiar honking cry are appearing in the clear blue sky, as they take flight southward. Fewer fireflies twinkle in the early evenings, and the presence of crickets is becoming more noticeable as their chirping sounds seem to grow louder.

The last of this year’s tomatoes, deep red, hang heavy on the vine. Slightly tougher in texture, these tomatoes also taste different now, not quite as flavorful as those relished a month or two ago. The luscious peaches and nectarines and tender ears of sweet corn – all pure delights of the summer – have also passed their prime. Hardy marigolds, in bright yellows and oranges, the famous late-bloomers of summer, are now in full flower in my garden. Faithful little plants, they’ll continue to flourish long after all the other posies have faded away.

Queen Anne’s lace, with its dainty, white-clustered blossoms, is everywhere along the roadsides, and will be so until first frost, lending an old-fashioned, Victorian charm to the scene. Milkweed pods will be opening soon, releasing countless seeds that float hither and yon through the air on their little feathery-white parachutes. Country fields of goldenrod will presently be in evidence as far as the eye can see, their deep saffron florets waving gently in the breeze. It won’t be long before we’re deeply immersed in those picture-postcard days of fall, when the green leaves of summer magically transform into blazing jewels of ruby red, glowing amber, shimmering wine, and brilliant yellow.

It’s harvest time. The black walnuts and hardy acorns are ripe and falling from the trees, to be retrieved and cached away by busy squirrels already planning for winter’s provisions. Apple orchards are laden with shiny, bright-colored fruit ready for the picking – as a crisp, crunchy treat or cool, refreshing cider. The zucchini and summer squash are at their peak and ready to store in the freezer. Months from now, when our beloved gardens are just a memory, these delectables from our carefully-cultivated patches of earth will evoke a reminiscent touch of summer when made into sauces, casseroles, breads, and cakes.

It’s harvest time for you and me, too, perhaps – time for taking stock, for evaluating the yield of our lives, so to speak. How fruitful have our days been? As we’ve tended to our crops of daily duties, responsibilities, and challenges, have we also tended to the people in our midst? They have crops of challenges, too. They could use the provision of a helping hand, a sowing of sunny thoughts, and a shower of encouraging words. Such caring acts can make a powerful difference for good. Indeed, the things we do for others throughout our lives often prove to be our greatest accomplishments.

What of true value have we reaped so far, and what significant offerings can we hope to glean in the time we have left? “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit . . .,” read the Scriptures (John 15:5). It is reassuring to know that, even in the autumn of our lives, with God’s help, we can still bring forth a veritable bounty of good deeds and kindnesses of lasting impact.

The unfolding of the fall season’s sights and sounds not only invigorates our senses, it also renews our spirits. Lofty goals are being set, and rightfully so. As my friend Sarah said, “This is going to be the best fall ever!”

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with Me that you also may be where I am.
— John 14:3 NIV

Through Christ’s resurrection, we have been given the wonderful promise that all those who believe in Him will never die but will have eternal life. We have been assured that death for those who have faith is not a closed-door ending of existence but rather a wide-open entry into a glorious, new, unending, joyful life with the Lord. And all of our beloved sisters- and brothers-in-Christ will join us there in that divine realm where there is no more sorrow or sickness or suffering.

Our finite, mortal minds could never comprehend what immortal life will really be like. Still, it is pleasant to imagine the possibilities.

Whenever I try to envision Heaven, I think of a singular August day, many years ago, when my late dear friend Jon Atkins and I co-chaired our church’s annual “Picnic in the Park.”

If I close my eyes, I can easily transport myself back to that picture-perfect Sunday, with its azure blue sky, ethereal white clouds, golden-glow sunlight, pleasantly-warm temperatures, and soothing-soft breezes. I can hear so clearly the whistling strains from a circus calliope tooting tunes in showboat fashion all across the park. I can see the smiling children enjoying a jumping Bounce House, face painting, and pony rides, while, in an adjacent grassy field, teenagers are intently competing in three-legged and relay races, frisbee toss, and tug-of-war. The irresistible aroma of freshly-popped popcorn, courtesy of a bright-red, vintage popcorn machine, is wafting through the air.

Under the picnic pavilion, a local catering service has arranged a divine buffet of fried chicken, baked beans, corn on the cob, cabbage slaw, and hot, fresh-from-the-oven country biscuits. People are eagerly queuing up to the table to partake of these mouth-watering delicacies. At the other end of the pavilion, a group of talented, octogenarian musicians and soloists perform “oldies-but-goodies” songs and classic Big Band sounds, to which some attendees have paired off and are dancing. At a certain point, longtime, faithful choir members Alec and Jane Miller, who loved to sing, step up to present their rendition of “I Remember It Well,” from the musical Gigi. Enchanting!

All ages from the youngest set through seniors represented in this harmonious gathering — each one seemingly carefree, thrilled to be there with family and friends, grateful for the blessings of the day.

I will always remember the precise moment of that long ago day when Dr. Lewis Galloway, our newly-installed pastor, arrived at the park. Standing there beside me, surveying the idyllic scene, he remarked, “You know, Mary, I bet this is what Heaven’s going to be like.” I couldn’t have agreed more. A sublime sea of smiles in a land of limitless light, laughter, and love.

Picnic in the Park. A coming attraction of the Paradise that God has prepared for us? I have confidence in the thought. After all, the word “paradise” comes from the Latin paradisus and the Greek paradeisos, both of which mean “a park.”