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MIELKE: Tales of Fall

As I sat down to write this week’s column, I glance out my basement window and notice we are blessed with another glorious fall day.

As I sat down to write this week’s column, I glance out my basement window and notice we are blessed with another glorious fall day.

The colours, rich and vivid shades of scarlet and tangerines, spill across the landscape of today’s reality with delightful abandon.

It is true. There is something about fall that stirs up that ‘good to be alive’ feeling kind of like that very first cup of coffee in the morning or the sound of the voice of someone special on the phone.

Last week, on a lovely sun-soaked afternoon, I went for a drive out into the country with a friend.

It was most enjoyable.

We took a couple of the roads less traveled, bumping along in companionable silence broken only by the occasional cry of the geese flying overhead, their perfect formation silhouetted against a cloudless blue sky.

For me, taking a drive in the country is a perfect antidote to many of the woes and tribulations that befall all of us on life’s unpredictable journey.

It truly is like balm to the soul.

Life is hard. Life is busy. And there are always those hardballs coming at you fast and furious.

Illness. The threat of illness, the worry of future illness, watching loved ones suffer. I honestly do not believe the English language, or any language for that matter, has created adequate words to describe how difficult that is.

Money. The cost of everything is escalating. I have no idea how to sugar-coat that fact, even if I do tend to wax poetic on occasion.

My friend told me that once when he was a kid, he saw this rainbow and went and grabbed a shovel because he was going to dig for that pot of gold at its end.

Sadly, he found out there was no pot of gold and when he returned home, dejected, his dad told him to put the shovel back in the barn or use it to go dig potatoes.

Alas, that elusive pot of gold. No one can find it.

But, somehow, as we drive along down country roads, I think about the verse in the Bible that tells us that for everything there is a season and a time for everything under the sun.

And that there is a time to laugh and a time to cry.

And, when I think about it, life with all its confusion and broken dreams (taken from Desiderata) does make sense somehow.

Which brings me back to the glad to be alive feeling that springs up, unbidden, when driving down a country road on a beautiful, sun-drenched day in fall when all seems right with the world.

Treena Mielke is a Central Alberta writer. She lives in Sylvan Lake with her family.