A word of thanks for autumn

Typically, spring is the season when Nature dolls up and puts on her most vivid colors.

But I would have to say -- and I've heard many of you say the same thing -- that this fall is one of the prettiest in recent memory.

How long has it been since the reds were so crimson and the yellows so golden? Not to mention the oranges and all the hues in between.

Even the azaleas we planted in front of the house several years go have given us an autumn display that equals their spring show, only this time it's the leaves and not the blossoms.

Usually, our azaleas keep most of their green leaves during the winter. Not this year. All of the bushes are full of gold leaves tinged with orange. It's quite a display.

Across the street, a neighbor's forsythia is in full bloom, repeating the bright yellow blossoms of springtime.

Up the street, two enormous tulip magnolias have buds about to burst into flower. But those trees are confused most of the time. Their blossoms typically get frozen in the spring. The mixed-up trees bloomed off and on all summer. Except for the cold snaps that can be expected this time of year, we could have a wonderful Thanksgiving display of tulip magnolia blossoms.

Speaking of Thanksgiving:

I was reminded how thankful we should be the other morning.

The sun was just coming up, and there were enough clouds in the east to create a light show of deep reds and purples.

I hadn't heard a weather forecast, so I was unaware that rain was approaching from the west.

When I stepped outside, there was an amazingly brilliant rainbow in the west, reflecting the sun's earliest rays as the showers moved in.

No matter where you looked, the beauty was breathtaking.

Several folks reported that the rainbow doubled for awhile, which was even more amazing.

I've only seen double rainbows a few times in my life.

Once was in Oregon. We had just visited my wife's niece and her family and were headed for a hotel on the east side of Portland before beginning the three-day drive back to Missouri. It was getting late, and a thunderstorm swept through just as we were getting in the car. By the time we got to the edge of Portland, the sun was setting behind us, and in front of us was the back end of the eastbound rainstorm. Rainbows were popping up everywhere. Everyone on the interstate slowed to a crawl to enjoy the multicolored light show.

A couple of years ago we were in Scotland in mid-October, driving north from Edinburgh to Inverness. Clouds had been dancing across the Highlands all morning, with intermittent showers and sunshine. During at least three breaks in the rain as we drove, double and triple rainbows arced over the horizon in front of us.

We took the rainbows as a good sign, much as we're told Noah did after 40 days or rain and flooding. We decided that the rest of our stay in Scotland would be blessed with fair weather. It was. Unfortunately, our flight home was delayed by pea-soup fog at the airport, and we wound up staying an extra night in New York. It was a small price to pay for the sunshine on the lochs and tors that we enjoyed so much.

When Thanksgiving Day rolls around next week, each of us will have our own list of things to be thankful for, including the fact that our phones are no longer tied up each night by recorded political messages.

For those of us fortunate enough to call Southeast Missouri our home, we will surely want to include a tip of the hat to the Almighty for the stunning beauty of our surroundings and those natural wonders that lift our spirits and bring us joy.

I'd like to think that some of the Pilgrims took note of the beauty around them at that first feast of thanksgiving. Surely someone remarked, "My goodness, have you seen the maples this morning?"

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.