I awoke this morning to the lovely, comforting sounds of much-needed rain. The clouds have obscured the sunlight enough that the front porch of my house is a pleasant place to sit.
All around me are signs of life, from the cornfield in front of my house, to the trees that line the creek bank. The tobacco plants across the road have blooms that are ready to be topped. Recently baled hay sits in rows, waiting to be fed to the cattle. The corn rows and tomato plants in our garden are thriving.
And yet, in a few short weeks and months, the entire landscape in front of my house will change. The corn will be picked, the stalks mowed down. The trees will lose their leaves as winter approaches. The tobacco will be topped, then harvested entirely. The produce in our garden will have been picked, shared, and consumed.
Such is life, I suppose. It moves in seasons. In the coming days, when my family and I face the end of one season, I will remember that when one season ends, another begins, and brings the promise of new life in the seasons yet to come.