We are having another wedding in our backyard at the most wonderful time of the year ... autumn. Our nephew, Michael, has asked if he can celebrate his choice of life mate here. It's not his first but, as the saying goes, its his last ... and her last. They have chosen to be married in October when fall is in it's full glory. I say that because, each autumn, my husband and I shuffle, scuff, crinkle thru at least a foot of golden maple leaves. We have two Norwegian maples in the backyard - they provide the canopy for the meditation room. The cottonwood has already started dropping leaves and, tho we love the cottonwood, the leaves are pretty drab. When the Norwegian Maple starts to drop, it's breathtaking. Look at the picture of our sweet baby, Mira, in the maple leaves on the opening page of our website. When the air becomes crisp and the morning sky that incredible midwest blue, and the garden starts to go to bed, and the hummingbirds come back on their trip south for the winter, we know autumn is here. Autumn is a cacophony of sound - crunch of leaves, cicadas humming, the crackle of a fire and the summer hum settling into quiet nights. Autumn is a rainbow of hues - the sky is never such a blue, the leaves go from golden to red to cottonwood brown, our garden, so lush and green just days ago it seems, begins to droop and dry, all the flowers offer seed for the coming season in brown little packages just there for the taking - another of God's promises of life to come and the squirrels bury just about anything that has a potential for winter snack. Autumn is a aroma that is unmatched when the bonfires start burning, and the last meal is grilled and the clothes are taken down from the line for, perhaps, the last time of the season - does anything smell as good as line dried linens? The touch of autumn is that of putting a garden to bed for a winter nap, the feel of a leaf so soft just a few weeks ago now crumbles in one's hand, the caress of a breeze from who knows where that is fresh and light and barely touches your cheek, and the heavy feeling of a quilt or an afghan on the bed (even the weight of it is warming). The taste of autumn - how many things are there -- candied apples, cider warm and mulled, a buttery warm merlot can fulfill all the senses, the last tomato from the garden still warmed by the sun and sweet, sweet, sweet, and the anticipation of all the holiday tastes to come! How can we not love autumn? That our nephew has chosen to marry his soul mate at this most glorious time of is a family thing - though he may not know it - his grandparents were married on October 17 in 1936. So it goes - he asked Susan to marry him where his father asked his mother and he marries her as his granddad married his grandma in the autumn of the year. My husband and I feel special to be part of this - it just seems right.