“Harvest: A Time of Fulfillment,” Ensign, Aug. 1980, 61
The air is calmer today outside my study window, a relief from last week’s wind. The Virginia creeper is turning red and gold, the crab apples are yellow, and the yard is trimmed and ready for winter. I have always loved fall.
The past few weeks I have been preoccupied with my Relief Society lesson on “life stages”—our growth from childhood through old age, and our feelings toward each stage. I fall into the category of middle years. Fall reminds me of this stage—calm, aware of life and color, appreciating the beauty and miracle around me. It is a harvest, in a way, of the earlier years, with wonderful children, grandchildren, and friends to enjoy, more time for reflection, more time for self.
Now what do I say about it to all those ladies? Can I share my love and appreciation for life without exposing delicate feelings? Should I do a brave performance, or can I just be me? I do not want to be analyzed or judged, but I have finally come to the conclusion that being me is okay. I am not perfect, but I do not expect others to be perfect either. I find I am now less critical and more loving.
I like being where I am. I am thankful for all the blessings of fall—the golden leaf, the last rose, and especially family and friends.—Colleen Poulson, Salt Lake City, Utah