** Oh, the ‘Bers

**Note: When this post first went live, an editing/scheduling error cut it short. We’ve since updated it so you can read the full version, just as Jess wrote it.

That’s what I like to call them: The ‘Bers. You know, September, October, November, December.

I could say I’m guilty of making them my favorite, but I won’t. Cuz I don’t feel guilty at all. I feel pleasantly proud. Think of the last time that someone asked you what your favorite was. Your favorite movie, book, food, song. There are so many, it can be hard to choose. But with the ‘Bers, I can say with every piece of me, “This is my favorite time of year.”

September greets us with such a gentle hand. A persistent golden hour as warm days begin to fade into cooler mornings, gentler afternoons, rainy evenings. We begin to reach for fall like a cozy scarf or our favorite hoodie. What could be more comforting?

There is also so much to learn from the world around us in The ‘Bers. Each tree, each leaf, shows us, with spectacular beauty, what it means to be gentle. What it means to embrace change at our own pace, in our own time. Leaves feel no pressure to change their colors. The trees give no expectation about when each leaf should fall. 

One day, the leaves are green, the last blossoms showing their faces. Another day, some leaves start to yellow around the stems. Some might have red spreading to their edges the next week. You might think that the tree you walk past each day becomes purple, suddenly, overnight. That is not the case, my friend. Each of those leaves took their own journey, it was only private to us, until those leaves were suddenly ready to show their work. 

Even once the forest is a beautiful watercolor of reds, browns, oranges, yellows, and purples, the trees allow us to enjoy the spectacle. As if showing us, “Look what my leaves have done. Even in the process of leaving, they have made themselves over into a new, stunning thing.” The trees never give the impression that the leaves, having changed, are worthless to them. That each leaf should promptly move on so that the tree can get on to the business of wintering. Each leaf is allowed to linger. Until, in its own time, it gently swirls onto the next journey: strengthening the soil and sheltering the growing insects for next summer. A final thank you to the tree, for accepting it, nurturing it.  

The trees don’t look at their neighbor and wonder why their leaves look different, change differently. No, the trees reach out their roots to their neighbor and plead with them. “Do you have what you need? Are you ready for winter? Can I help you?” 

What a beautiful relationship. What a poetic way for nature to show us - you are part of me. You are changing, you will always be changing, and look how amazing that is. We can see every change we come across as a trial, as a tribulation. But why? We can just as easily remember that we are part of nature. Nature changes without fuss, why go against what we inherently are?

As Mother Nature opens her loving arms to receive the leaves, leaves that are wholly different from when she sent them into the world, she also opens them to the humans she sent into the world. A welcome home for our true selves, with no expectation or criticism. She calls to each soul, a tie to our roots in the Earth. It could be existential, if that is where you need to start. It could feel natural, if you need less mental work this season. You could do the mental equivalent of raking your leaves because you think the yard should be a particular way. Or, you could remember that fireflies lay their eggs on the underside of the leaves in your yard, and when was the last time you saw that beautiful, elusive spark in the evening? How valuable is it to leave something that could be considered “messy” to those around you. There are always choices to be made. You can shed the expectations of others and build yourself into a place that welcomes fireflies. Whatever that looks like is a wonderful thing. 

Each season, nature shows a new version of itself to the world. The cyclical process of becoming is embraced by plants, animals, even the clouds in the skies. We, too, are a beautiful piece of nature. Begged to become what we truly are, to honor every piece of ourselves. What does that mean? Where does it lead to? Weighty questions that can leave us reeling, confused, overwhelmed. What if instead, we took deep breaths and looked at the trees?

Could you aspire to follow the lead of leaves this September? Could you reach for the comfort of fall without pressure? Could you allow yourself to change at whatever pace fills that comfortable space you have made for The ‘Bers? Are we able to embrace that each change comes at its own time, with its own delicate beauty? Where you are right now is beautiful. Your final blossoms showing their faces. What riot of color will your beautiful leaves bring to the world as the seasons of your life transform each beautiful, wonderful piece of you?