I go for a walk in the woods. Leaves and foliage crunch underfoot. Green still colors the landscape in splashes around me, and the last vestiges of summer fill the air. But fall is beginning to make her presence known—russet and gold and yellow make cameos in the trees and on the ground. The trees and their desperately clinging leaves stand thick, blocking out much of the light.
But suddenly I come upon a clearing. Sunlight washes over me. The sky is blue, unbroken by clouds, and I stand there. I see and hear and smell and feel: a squirrel scampers past. A cricket slips and scrambles to stay atop a twig. In the distance, a woodpecker taps away at its latest tree. Just behind me, a spider—home and handiwork disturbed by my recent passing—begins reconstruction.
And God says, “Hello …”