This time every year I find myself wondering... and wandering. All summer long I tended to my cottage gardens. Day in and day out I pulled weeds, pruned, trimmed and transplanted. Using old bricks and large stones I built paths, walkways and walls. In summer my soul finds such sustenance creating beauty with nature.

But now, fall has come. Summer's grass has faded and my flowers have gone to seed. Weeding is a done deal. Now, what? How do I shift gears? Raking leaves just doesn't fill my soul; let's just not go there.

I wasn't always a gardener. I spent my early years birthing babies, nursing them, and raising them. Having five kids in eight years left little time to even think about a garden; weeds that flowered sufficed to make me quite content. Back then, seasons were a revolving background for the snapshots of our children playing in the sand, leaves, and snow...

When our kids grew old enough to follow their passions and become independent beings, I began to notice the seasons. All the amazing, intricate interactions that, in their own timing, know when to ebb and when to flow. Such amazing sounds, smells, and subtle changes that serve to "season" my senses. With time to spare, I now notice so much. I guess that as we grow older, we find change a challenge. We are rooted in our daily norm, and suddenly when summer turns to fall, our souls seek a new balance, a gravity of sorts.

This is when my wondering turns into wandering...

In our attempt to acclimate, we look for meaning in metamorphosis. Recently, bemoaning summer's transition to autumn, I complained to my husband, "I've LOST my meaning." His response was simple, yet wise; "When you look for something you've lost, you won't find it. You will find it when you aren't even looking for it." His words were reassuring. Still, they provided no answers... that is until I found myself not seeking, but FINDING my answer!

Don't we wish ALL the answers to life could be so easy?

While collecting the very last of summer's blossoms, I came across many spent, dried blooms. As I pushed them aside, they fell apart, fortuitously dropping seeds. Oh, the serendipity inherent in that small, innocent moment! It dawned on me that these seedlings held the promise of next spring. In terms of "nature speak," THEY found ME. Oh, but there was so much more!

Not only did this provide reassurance that my garden endeavors didn't end with summer, but served as a gentle reminder that there is a purpose in all things. The beautiful blooms-turned-dried, spent flowers are next summer's generation. As I collected these tiny seeds to fill my little paper envelopes, they, in turn, filled my soul. All was suddenly well with my little transition into Autumn.

Gratitude is the term that comes to mind when I think how this lesson in nature applies to my life, and maybe even yours. I look back on my painful childhood and know that it has been a springboard for my blog and Facebook page. This abused child who cried herself to sleep each night has blossomed into a hopeful flower that now spreads seeds of promise and caring wherever she goes. Life certainly does ebb and flow, but like nature itself, healing and regrowth are there for the taking. I am a survivor; like an old tree, I hope to grow old gracefully and weather many more seasons to come.

This brings us to you... What kind of survivor would you like to be? How far will you spread your seeds of faith and good will? I would like to think that this post has brought a spirit of renewal to your soul. May the beautiful colors of fall fill you with the desire to reach out to others and make a difference. The difference is within you. Please share it!