The rain was tugging on these fall berries, but they held fast to their perch, refusing to let go. Such obstinance in the face of nature is admirable. Eventually they know they must succumb. Even if they manage to remain on their host branch for the winter, the wind and the cold will desiccate and decimate them, until they resemble tiny black shriveled raisins, if they resemble anything at all. Sometimes winter takes all of what they once held inside them, turning it inside out and exposing the tender fruit and seeds.
Still, there is something to be said for putting up the good fight.
Fall brings to mind lessons like this – lessons of resilience and strength, of going through with the mission of life even when adversity seems poised to win, even when the outcome looks grim or at best uncertain. It’s the nobility in finishing a race you already know you have lost, of closing out a game in which there is no possible way to win. The simple act of seeing something through to completion, no matter what the end may look or feel like.
The attempt to find hope and joy in the fall when we all know it will end in winter.
And, truth be told, one never knows how benign or kind the winter may be. Perhaps Mother Nature has doled out enough pain with all of this summer’s rain. Perhaps she’s battered us enough. We’ve had years where such berries lasted well into December. I remember a holiday stroll in Boston where there were roses still blooming. Part of that felt wrong, but mostly I just embraced the reprieve, pulling them close to my nose and laughing at our luck.
May we be lucky again.
