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A Season of Meetings Last week’s cold weather brought in a season of meetings. The cool air is meeting the warmer regions. A favored season called fall, where trees and green turn colors: yellow orange and red. Along side of this, an explosion of personalities and temperaments that compliment each other sing. However, here in the desert, realities aren’t colored in merciful green or refreshing drinks on the surface. Fall is a sudden wind slapping my face and sand in my mouth. No surface water for relief or no colors to agree. In the cold bite of the winter, I long for summer, and in the exhaust and burn of the summer, I imagine the ice. But they both meet in the fall and exchange wisdoms unknown to man. To most, fall is a pretty season, but to the desert, it’s a reality of a rarity. It’s a rushing wind of cold and heat, work and rest, life and death, fantasy and reality; but ultimately, heaven and earth. And here in this reality, I find winter no better than summer and then meeting no better than being apart. But my intentions for them all are superior in command. With good intentions to bless, I command cold and heat to give me their pearls. Work and rest to fulfill my needs, from life and death I demand their time, fantasy and reality I keep as my own. And heaven and earth I distribute as if mine. I live happily in the desert because I need no pretty cover to see beauty in the book of nature. God gave me this book to master as my own pet, or to have and hold as my bride. I tell her, "Take off your make-up because I know who you are. You belong to me. " -Jacob
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