Faith in a Seed

P.T. Barnum once called the White Mountains the “second greatest show on earth.” And I’m not sure he’d ever been here for the best season.

Every autumn, I’m reminded how James Taylor is the perfect soundtrack for a rainy day. There’s something entirely cozy and nostalgic about it all. His music has been ringing loud and clear this past week as showers come and go, blessing us with the occasional downpour. 

For me, that’s what the fall is. It’s like coming home to a world I belong in, leaving behind the hot stickiness and the mosquitoes of summer. It’s time for soup and sweaters, candles, and starlight on chilly nights. 

On this quiet Friday, rain is falling lazily, and Emily and Samwise have voted to sleep in. The precipitation will pump up the colors of the foliage, as will the coming colder nights. Thus far, the sugar maples have stolen the show near ponds, lakes, and rivers. But up north, above the notches, the change in color from our hike on Tuesday to yesterday’s was noticeable.