The fall is my favorite time of year. I love the colors. The sun

Ricky Skaggs, musician of heart and voice, once said: “The fall is my favorite time of year. I love the colors. The sun is out, you get warmth on your skin but there’s the coolness of the breeze. It’s really comfortable.” Though these words seem simple, they hold a wisdom as ancient as the seasons themselves. For in fall, we glimpse the great paradox of life: warmth and coolness together, beauty in decline, comfort in the midst of change. It is a season that teaches without words, reminding us that endings may also be radiant.

O listener, see how he treasures the colors of fall—the fire of leaves before they wither, the gold and crimson before they fall to dust. Here lies a truth of existence: beauty is often greatest in the moment before fading. The tree, clothed in splendor, prepares for its barrenness, and yet in that preparation it glows with unmatched majesty. So too in human life: the years that pass may bring wrinkles, struggles, or decline, yet they may also bring a wisdom and a radiance that youth cannot know.

The sun of autumn is not the harsh blaze of summer but a gentler flame, warming yet not exhausting. Skaggs reminds us that this warmth upon the skin is balanced by the coolness of the breeze—a harmony of opposites, comfort born of balance. How often in life we chase extremes, the fire of passion or the chill of detachment, and yet here nature shows us a better way: strength in moderation, joy in equilibrium, peace in the union of contrasts.

Consider, if you will, the ancients of Japan who practiced momijigari—the art of admiring autumn leaves. For them, as for Skaggs, fall was more than a season; it was a meditation on impermanence. The fleeting blaze of colors was a reminder that all things pass, and that beauty is not diminished by its brevity but heightened by it. To walk among the fiery trees was to walk with wisdom, to see in nature the mirror of one’s own mortal life.

So too in history: recall the poet John Keats, who wrote of autumn as the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.” He found in its ripeness and its decline a profound poetry, a reminder that every harvest carries the whisper of winter, yet also the satisfaction of completion. Autumn was for him, as for Skaggs, a comfortable time, a time of reflection, gratitude, and quiet joy.

The lesson is plain: do not despise the seasons of change, nor fear the approach of endings. Embrace them as moments of comfort, of beauty, of reflection. Just as fall balances warmth and coolness, so must you balance labor and rest, passion and peace, ambition and contentment. The one who embraces this balance walks in harmony with nature and finds joy even in decline.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, let the fall teach you. Step outside to feel the sun on your face and the breeze upon your skin. Notice the colors that blaze for but a short time, and let them remind you to live fully while you may. Be grateful for endings that shine with beauty, for transitions that bring comfort, for the harmony of opposites that sustain your spirit.

For in truth, every fall is not only the closing of summer, but the preparation for spring yet to come. To love it, as Ricky Skaggs does, is to understand the secret rhythm of life: that even as one chapter ends, it ends with beauty, balance, and peace. And those who learn this lesson will walk the journey of life with hearts attuned to both comfort and wonder.