The Prophet Isaiah (55:12) talks about mountains and hills breaking forth into singing and trees clapping their hands.
It seems to me the mountains are singing clearer and louder in Autumn. It is in the Fall of the year that the mountains call us to see and hear and experience the beauty of the mountains!
John Muer made some interesting comments about trees, not just about trees singing but also preaching! He wrote: "Few are altogether deaf to the preaching of pine trees. Their sermons on the mountains go to our hearts; and if people in general could be got into the woods, even for once, to hear the trees speak for themselves, all difficulties in the way of forest preservation would vanish." -John Muir, naturalist, explorer, and writer (1838-1914)
A few years ago, Ken Cook, a meteorologist, spoke to our Retired Pastors group at Simpsonwod United Methodist Center about his flower business in North Georgia. He told us that his Dahlias bloom in the Spring and in the Fall. He said that when they bloom again in the Fall, the colors are more vibrant and sparkling than when they bloomed in the Spring.
More vibrant, more sparkling in the Fall? (The photo above is a small vase of the Amazingly beautiful Autumn blooming Dahlias from the garden of Terrell and Sheila Shaw (October 17, 2009) On the right is a dahlia blooming in a pot near my driveway now in October 2010. (photo by Joan)
What about the Autumn of life? I wrote a poem! The last verse of my poem is for all of us who are “old” and for the rest of us who are planning on getting a “whole lot older.”
I walked into October
And lifted up my ears to hear
The very mountains singing
Choir-robed for praise . . .
in Autumn . . . clear . . .
Sunset yellows, burning bush reds.
My heart . . . in awe . . . took off its shoes
And stood on Holy ground to view
Creation's God in Autumn hue . . .
For every tree was clapping
The Doxology . . . lifted high
I think some unseen maestro
Was pointing to the sky!
I heard the mountains singing
With concert voices raised
When every hill pulled out the stops,
Adorned in breathless Autumn praise!.
I shall long remember this:
The mountains grandest notes are sung
Not in springtime's newness .
But in Autumn’s aging tongue.
by R.B.S. copyright 1989