Here it is well into October and there is finally a tinge of fall in the air. Yesterday morning as I made myself roll out of bed early to push my garbage container and recycle bag curbside, I noticed the air was crisp and cool. A gentle breeze coaxed me back inside to slip on a lightweight long-sleeved blouse.

It was so pleasant that I decided to take a morning neighborhood stroll. I had not even reached the street when I saw a yellow butterfly floating out of the woods. Yes, for sure, autumn is upon us, I thought, as it made its way into some bushes. I had seen several of them in the past few weeks. It seems to me as if they are always one of the first indications of fall.

I don’t remember counting the appearance of those spiders that construct such large webs as a sign of fall before, but they have certainly made themselves evident recently. Just a few days ago, I saw the sun strike one that afforded me a view of a huge web stretched from one tree to another. In it was a monster of a spider, perhaps the largest one I’ve ever seen. Since it was not in my path, I just stepped back and marveled at its artwork.

During a couple of drives to Blue Lake Methodist camp and a trip to Brewton, I noticed an abundance of goldenrod. I don’t ever recall seeing as many of those glorious yellow plants gracing fields and roadsides. Many are still blooming, adorning the woods here and there. My husband always admired them. However, my mother was repelled by them, thinking they caused her allergies.

Another wild plant I enjoy is the morning glory. Resplendent with velvety-blue, white or purple blossoms and glistening with dew, they wind their way around bushes and branches or edge along the ground in the early part of the day. They shut their eyes after doses of full sun fall on them. Tiny pinkish-purple vines I cannot identify, but are probably morning glory cousins, follow similar paths. As I cast admiring eyes on them, it seems to me that not even a master florist could create such arrangements.

Now I enjoy the Confederate rose bushes that perform their miracles this time of year. I first became aware of them when someone brought us a bouquet of white blossoms to The Onlooker newspaper office in Foley years ago. By the end of the day, the white blossoms folded inward and turned red. I loved watching the process. My mother planted a bush beside our patio at the Lillian parsonage. It grew wide and as tall as the roof and attracted a variety of insects. I enjoyed sharing bouquets of the fascinating blossoms with friends and co-workers.

Just ignore those tons of leaves and the messy job of cleaning away the aggravating love bugs. Instead, join me in enjoying and praising God for the glories of fall.