For years, whenever I open my mother’s refrigerator, one quote stands out among the reminders of doctor appointments, handyman numbers, Bible verses, and proverbs hung on the door (including the occasional Bible verse from Proverbs). It’s a quote from George Washington Carver that says, “How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant of the weak and the strong – because someday you will have been all of these.” Recently, I ran across another Carver quote that stuck with me as I took a walk around the neighborhood. He said, “I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting system, through which God speaks to us every hour, if we will only tune in.” Here in the middle of the Deep South, Fall does not provide a grandiose display like it does in New England. Nature saves Southern grandiosity for the Spring. And the weather is so unpredictable that who really knows what to expect from day to day? A couple of weeks ago, there was a taste of Winter to come and the same people who had been griping about the heat for months instantly cursed the cold. Now, we’re flirting with record highs and unseasonably mild nighttime lows and even the birds and the bugs seem a bit confused about where to go and what to do. On a recent walk, wasps seemed to be swarming and flies seemed to be waiting to dash inside any opened door. A day later, they had hastily retreated, only to reappear again with equal haste later in the week.

On today’s walk, with a pleasant breeze, leaves – both falling and fallen – came into focus. The neighborhood is dominated by longleaf pines and the trees on the mountain tend to blend into rusty tones of gold and bronze this time of year. Out the back and down the mountain, gold and burgundy are visible beyond the fences. But it was the images in miniature that pulled my attention. There were thick displays on the branches and others, in crumbling piles, on the sidewalk, in the grass, as Fall’s detritus creates fleeting seasonal abstractions. As nature’s broadcasts stimulated Carver’s scientific mind, the beauty of its moments provide a welcome distraction from the tedium and drama of the day-to-day.

It’s Fall, again. Leaves are falling, Thanksgiving is pending, and Christmas decor is being rushed in the neighborhoods. My less scientific mind ponders if there might be a law of physics to explain how the days can last forever while the years pass in a flash.