Sunday, November 16, 2025
Sunday Reflection: The clarity of late autumn
Yesterday was probably my last bike ride of the year. I was on the Dakota Trail west of St. Bonifacius, which I ride several times a year.
Because this is Minnesota, the trail is a little different every time as the seasons change. In the early spring, there is still snow along the edges of the trail and on the bridges. Then later in the spring there is a bright green emerging and a chorus of frogs all along the way, loud and bold. In early summer the trail is full of people and the trees are filling out. Late in the summer, there is the hum of crickets and a bounty of a deeper green all around. Then comes early fall and the hint of color giving way a few weeks later to this glorious crescendo of gold and maroon that just takes my breath away.
But late autumn is different. The leaves have fallen and layer the ground. Suddenly, you can see all the things that usually are hidden: a tiny secret lake with a single long-necked bird resting on its trip south; a junkyard of cars stretching back into the woods outside a small town; a creek wending between tall white reeds. All these things that were obscured!
It's a ride during and about the late autumn of life, when the opaque foliage of striving for success and meaning, convincing ourselves of who we are and the burdens that come with all of that have fallen away. What I can see now! The things that matter and the things that don't, the foolishness I fell prey to and the beauty that was always there.
What a great place, a great time, to be!
