It’s finally fall here in Austin.  We had a cold front come through last weekend and the air is crisp and chilly.

I’m crazy about the changing of the seasons, and fall is my favorite season.

Seasons are lovely bookends to different sections of our lives.

They’re like quarterly New Year’s Eveses— sweet reminders to be mindful of the passage of time, to get on with our carpe diem while the getting’s good.

So how do we seize the season this fall?

Harvest, harvest, harvest

Traditionally, Fall is the season of the harvest.

It’s a time when farmers worked by the moon’s light to gather up all the season’s yield before the winter frosts came.

Fall heralds the beginning of a season of holidays, from September through December.

For many, it signals the beginning of a new school year.

Look at the squirrels, and you’ll see some mad preparation for the winter season.

The birds are hurtling homeward, for warmer climates.

And the hue of the leaves, even here in Texas, changes day by day—even if it is just green to brown in most cases.

So how do we seize the day this season?

The same way we do every other day.

Find joy in small things.

Locate the things in life that you are grateful for.  Express your gratitude.

Enjoy the unique pleasures of the season.  Get outside.

Develop a picture of where you’d like to be next fall.  Are you doing things now to support that vision, or not?

Just a couple of ideas to get you started.

If it feels like there’s nothing to harvest

You might be reading this list and thinking, “I’m less interested in seizing the day and more interested in just getting through the day right now.”

Okay.

Amidst all bright, hopeful images of the season, observing others’ abundance and growth and busy preparation, you may find yourself feeling stuck or depleted or just tired.

As dry and brittle as a bundle of old leaves.

Maybe this past summer was a really challenging season for you.

Maybe this past year—or even longer still—feels like an uncertain marathon.

We turn corners, seeking finish lines, and instead find another long expanse ahead.

We may look at our lives from this vantage point and see nothing but a plain, barren field.

In these moments, we must trust the growth that we cannot see.  And we must also ask for help.

Trusting the growth we cannot see

The gardens of late fall and winter may look dead, blanketed by leaves.

But we must trust that roots and sprouts are hiding beneath the soil, ready to peek out when the timing’s right.

We must trust that the bulbs will remember to bloom, as they have every year before.

Even if we are sick with heartache or stuck in a rut or clawing our way into (or out of) a relationship, we must trust that things will change.

And then change again.

The tide of this season will carry us forward to the next, next, next.

The best thing we can do is have compassion for ourselves as we tumble forward—sometimes with grace, sometimes awkwardness—and to ask for help if we need it.

Seize the season

So what about you?

Like the squirrels, have you stored up what you need for the months ahead?

Do you have help holding a vision for your future and support as you find your way there?

And even if things seem stuck, or like they’re moving at a glacial pace,

…can you trust the growth you cannot see?

If you need help with the harvest, I’m here.

If you feel as though you’ve sown the field of your life with stones, I’m here.

If you’d like some quiet space to figure out how to carpe diem!! this fall, I’m here.

Best wishes to you for a full and nourishing fall season.