I just finished reading a book called Song of the Lark that speaks of goals and ambition, of art and self-expression, of family and memories. Willa Cather expresses, at times painful in how simple and perfect it is worded, the necessary passing of time and the loss of things so familiar and dear. This quote is a good example:
"So it went; one loved a quaint little girl, cheerful, industrious, always on the run and hustling through her tasks; and suddenly one lost her. He had thought he knew that child like the glove on his hand. But about this tall girl who threw up her head and glittered like that all over, he knew nothing."
And so change is come. Autumn, if anything, brings change to my mind. It is the putting away of a job well done, and the initial foundation of another time of growth. Goodbye to my lovely quiet forest; stately trees that are my confidant, beautiful rocks fairly bursting with praise for our King, joyful brook gurgling with joy. If you insist it must be so, we will move on, continuing to strive for growth, certain to meet again.