At each season change I get a little too excited. I love living in a climate that allows for four distinct seasons with glories in each one.
Today as I was pondering the joys of autumn, I realized most of what I love about the seasons are things that remind me of my childhood. Then I realized, what an honor to have been raised in a home where to think back on my childhood is a wondrous thought. I thank my parents for the small things they did and allowed us to do.
I am thankful for summer days at grandma's pool and trips to the beach; I am thankful for the warmth the sun gave off as it peered through our sliding glass door in the early spring mornings as I downed my homemade pancakes in the shapes of hearts. I am thankful for fall days of riding big wheels into piles of leaves and little league football games accented by many trips to the concession stand for hot cocoa and laffy taffy. I am thankful for winter sledding on large black trashbags with my dog in the back yard because we broke the sleds mom bought and for days of homemade snowcream with family and friends gathered near.
With autumn upon us, I eagerly gaze out my window, longing for the chill of the season's breeze to float by, anticipating long drives home through the Tennessee foothills painted with reds, oranges and browns, and enjoying each moment spent in a loving environment for which I will forever be grateful.
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