One of the things I like best about living in the Northeast is watching the change of seasons. Each season holds its own special beauty and I enjoy the sights, sounds, and smells each one brings. Not surprisingly, as I live each new season, my mind returns to memories of seasons past.

Fall, for example, brings forth images of attending our town’s annual festival when I was a child. The crisp autumn air carried the sweet aroma of donuts and the drone of the auctioneer’s voice from the center stage. My eyes feasted on the assortment of prizes at each of the booths lining the perimeter of the event, and I hoped to win one of them to bring home. At home, fall meant a time for decorating the house in warm autumn hues, the scent of freshly picked grapes, and preparation for the upcoming holidays.

As an adult, I know fall is here when I hear the sound of geese flying overhead. A neighbor has a pond where they often stop on their journey south. We put out the birdfeeders for the birds that winter here, and the chipmunks scurry around gathering food for the long winter ahead. Watching the bright colors of summer fade into fall can be both breathtaking and a little sad, as we watch the earth take on a new type of beauty.

Observing these wonders of nature often reminds me of the seasons of life and the beauty in each one. Through my ever-changing surroundings I have the privilege of continually reminiscing about each of the stages of life that I’ve experienced so far and savoring memories of each one.