Like the sun moving toward the shortest day, each moment arises—and is gone before we know it.

Once, many grey autumns ago, I came upon a tree. The tree, a poplar, had dropped all of its leaves but for one, just one. Exactly one leaf remained near the topmost part of the tree, fluttering in the breeze like a little reddish-brown flag....

In the pagan tradition, which is grounded in a respect and reverence for the natural world, calling upon the four directions is the usual way to begin any ceremony. Each direction is associated with an element of the natural world, and represents some part of our human nature as well....

Early spring awakens memories of a deeper cold and hopes of a warmer wetness, sprouting seeds and budding branches. Gray trees on gray sky screen eyes from all that lies waiting: the color of a million flowers, the feathers of migrating songbirds, the blossoming smiles of friends. Soon we will no...

Spirit of life, we are joined today in a moment of gratitude for a perfect fall day -- for a last blaze of sunshine in a sapphire sky, before the rain and snow -- for gold and crimson leaves, before we are mired in piles of slush -- for the moment of peace and contemplation in which to appreciate...

God of the Autumn, help us to live with the grace of falling leaves the enthusiasm of the flaming Aspens with the serenity of the old trees, whose roots reach deep into the earth. God of the Autumn, help us to know that living and dying are one that life is precious, and beautiful, and limited....

Please join with me in the spirit of meditation and prayer. We know the leaves are dying. We know that their blaze of beauty is a preparation for death. It is a time when we appreciate the effort of nature to rise above the ordinariness of life and death. It is a time when we visibly comprehend...

I do not know if the seasons remember their history or if the days and nights by which we count time remember their own passing. I do not know if the oak tree remembers its planting or if the pine remembers its slow climb toward sun and stars. I do not know if the squirrel remembers last fall's...