The Hunt for Red (and Orange and Yellow) October

Autumn is a season of change and of dependability, of drama and of subtlety, of transformation and reliability.  In woodlands across our country, trees begin to shine with color. Their leaves shake off the dull greens and tans of late summer to reveal an almost unbelievably colorful array.  Red maples, orange oaks, and bright yellow birches fill the forests, their branches laden with myriad hues, shapes and textures. As the leaves morph into shades of red, yellow, orange or rich copper, many states publish their Fall Foliage calendars, and weathercasters predict the peak foliage season for different latitudes.  Year after year, the leaves turn: reliable for the timing of their colorful display; erratic in duration and intensity.

Simultaneously with the glowing fall colors comes another reliable phenomenon: Leaf-peepers, people who travel to wood-filled locations to view these stunning sights.  Buses teem with peepers.  Highway overlooks are crowded.  Proprietors of inns and restaurants prepare for the lucrative last push of tourist season before the skies drop their first snows. Clutching foliage maps, binoculars, and the ever-present camera/phones, people flock to places such as my former home state of Maine in search of this transient beauty.  Amidst gasps of awe, the peepers are seldom disappointed.  Cameras click constantly as viewers attempt to capture the almost unreal beauty that nature offers. The leaf peepers know something essential: Though online pictures and skilled paintings can inspire, the hunt for Red (and Orange and Yellow) October is, at its essence, one of those “you had to be there” experiences.  Standing among the leaves, hearing them rustle as a wind stirs the trees, seeing the unique interplay of sunlight and color, viewers witness a display that cannot truly be found through an online search. In the presence of such beauty, we are brought up short, momentarily stunned by the plethora of colors around us. We stop. We stare.  We pocket our phones.  We feel our spirits quieten.  As we pause and silence our inner and outer chatter, the search is satisfied.  We know, with soul-based knowledge, that just as the leaves have transformed into bursts of spectacular color, we have been transformed as well.  In the presence of such tangible evidence of God’s glory and intricate creativity, in ways dramatic or subtle, we receive the gift of illumination. We rejoice: Our God created transformations are eternal.

Another insight seeps into our souls. This type of transformation is designed and not haphazard.  These maple leaves will not somehow become cactus paddles.  The yellow birch leaves will not become butterflies despite their similar hues.  We do not have to transform into some other being to glow with inner light, in order to be infused with beauty.   Again, we rejoice: Our God-created foundations are eternal.

What is it that draws us to the woods for the first time? Why do we return year after year?  Is it an item on a bucket list? Is it a welcome respite from the faded colors and heat of long summers? Is it a yearly ritual imbued with spiritual meaning?    Yes… it is all these things and more., so very much more—or at least it could be. If we can receive nature’s lessons. If we can remain vital whatever our age or circumstance.  If we soak ourselves in the unspeakable beauty of the Presence of God; the God who guides the seasons; the God who values both change and stability; who delights us with drama and subtlety; who designs the passages of time; who welcomes the new and the old.

As October ends and the peak season’s glory fades, the cycle of change continues.  Leaves that once were as bright as a copper penny or a rosy, ripe apple fade.  Stems dry and weaken.  Leaves fall to earth, accompanied by acorns and seed capsules. The age-old pattern renews.  The Hunt for a Red October is shelved for a while, but the search for beauty? For Wonder? For transformation?  That noble pursuit continues as a part of a vital life.

 We know that we, too, are a part of change, people who can be, and are, transformed by forces beyond our understanding.  We are not passive in this endeavor.  We have an important part to play.  It is we who search for beauty, whether across the country or across the street.  It is we who welcome the transformative power of our Creator into our spirits as surely as a red maple leaf or yellow birch’s canopy responds to their environment. It is we who behold the offerings before us.

And we all, who with unveiled faces, contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into God’s image with ever increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

2 Corinthians 3:18

Photo: October in Wilton, Maine by Beth Hatcher