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A bit of snow is hanging onto a branch on the tree outside my window now. As it falls off the limbs, it appears to drip onto the branches and ground below it. 

It’s peaceful to sit and watch a clump of melting snow until it falls to the ground. The peace brings with it a sense of gratitude for the beauty of the day. The cleansing energy of the snow is a reminder that we are part of the world outside our windows and walls. 

The overnight storm left a coating of white in the large courtyard. Dogs woke me up at dawn as they barked and played in the cold white wonderland outside my condo. My favorite part is when they dance about on their backs in joy. 

I am in transition. This will be my first year of new seasons in my chosen home. I moved in the middle of summer. And I’m only now learning how the building complex moves and breathes into each new moon cycle.

It was time. Time for a change. Time to stir up my energy into a new cocktail. Moving to a new home, in another part of the metropolitan area I live in, was a deliberate act. One meant to shift me into new habits, thought patterns and ways of being. 

I know last night’s storm was part of autumn in Colorado. But somehow it portends a cleansing of my soul. We will go back to the warm days and cool, crisp nights for a few more weeks. And while we do, I will walk through dried leaves and smell the earth. The changing of the season of ripening, harvesting – of earth, ideas, and emotions.

I sometimes call it caving. It’s like when I want to be alone in my cave like a bear and let things go on outside my walls. Let the world slip by me as I ponder life and start preparing myself for the next season. Others may call it nesting – snuggling into their couch to read or watch television for the next few months.

For me, and for others, autumn is a time of change. Moving from the heat and energy of summer to the cold hibernation of winter. 

Autumn is by far my favorite season. It brings with it so many great memories. Even when I can’t always be part of a tradition, I still love that the tradition continues.

I was 21. I turned 21 on a Sunday in late September. While I helped freshmen move into the dormitories at my university, I would miss one of my family’s favorite traditions.

No, not my birthday. It was an aspen run day. In Colorado, thousands of people trek into the mountains over the course of a month to view the trees changing color from green to gold to red. All while the wind causes the leaves to quake and tremble. The sight is beautiful and a reminder that nature’s energy is always there.

On that Sunday, my family chose to still make the trek – without me. As it was my birthday, it upset me not to go. 

The trees were glorious, my sister said. She tried not to rub it in as she knew how much I wanted to be there with them. I knew I’d be able to go another weekend or in another year to spy the trees myself. But I was still upset.

I wanted to be part of the tradition. Partly as it was also renewal for me to make that trek. Sort of a reset for my soul. 

As the months moved into winter, I recognized that I would need to make some new traditions. And I did. Walking through the leaves in town under the 100-yr old trees made up for the missed trip. Then while home during the holidays, my sister gave me a gift. 

A picture. 

She took it the day I missed the aspen run. On my 21st birthday. I have that picture sitting in my office where I can view it. And remember that while I may have missed that day, I can still be part of the tradition.

I’m looking forward to making new traditions now. How about you?