Try to remember the kind of September

when life was slow and oh, so mellow

Try to remember the kind of September

when grass was green and grain was yellow …

Try to remember when life was so tender

that dreams were kept beside your pillow

Try to remember when life was so tender

that love was an ember about to billow …

Part of the lyrics to “Try to Remember” written by American songwriter Thomas Collins Jones

There is a magical place just a tad over 2½ hours from Manteca near the outer edges of the 209 where Highway 108 crests the Sierra at 9,642 feet.

Midway between the turnoff to Kennedy Meadows at 6,200 feet and the lofty Sonora Pass you will drive by an area wooded with aspens in late September and early October that are ablaze in hues of yellow, gold, green, brown, and a dash of red with soaring granite walls serving as their backdrop. Do not resist the temptation to stop.

For your heart to get a workout you don’t have to put on hiking boots and lug a backpack into the wilderness.

Instead, you just need to pull over, get out of your car, and soak in the visual feast before you as the warm mountain breeze with a tinge of chill caresses your face.

If you like you can take a short walk but you don’t have to stray far before you shed any stress and your heart starts fluttering in sync with the aspen leaves being gently rustled by the breeze.

I used to view autumn as a pass over season much like many do as three months you need to bridge to go from the long playful days of summer to the holidays and magic of a winter slumber.

One should cherish the fall as it is traditionally the season on the calendar — and in life — when we reap what we sow.

Generally, the more effort and attention you give to the seeds you plant to nurture them and help them grow is proportionate to what you harvest.

There are things you can’t control — such as the weather and disease — but for the most part the bounty you get from the field or your life reflects on what you have put forth.

The fall can be a dusty and a jarring time.

The days seem to be in a constant battle.

One day it’s the heat of the sun that can be overpowering and the nights still muggy.

Then the very next day there’s a gentle warmth and the air turns chilly as the sun disappears.

That tug of war goes on for weeks — sometimes months — before nature gives way to the inevitable and finally admits it is into the third segment of its spinning journey around the sun.

We often do the same thing with our lives, desperate in many ways to cling to the vestige of youth while resisting what is unfolding before us.

We devote our emotional energies to try and extend summer instead of embracing what is before us.

If we’re lucky, we won’t mourn over friendships that fade or flee those that still beat strong simply because the dynamics — like the leaves of the aspen — are changing.

We err by resisting.

We don’t see the beauty in change, growth or life’s cycles.

When you view fall as a time where dead leaves pile up it is a gross misunderstanding of what is before you and what lies ahead.

There were countless other seeds and budding twigs that perished long ago in the grove of aspen that are getting ready for their autumn grand finale along Highway 108 above Kennedy Meadows.

They never got the chance to experience fall in all its glory.

And glory it is.

Take a look around you.

What can be grander than the granddaughter you once managed to put a disposable diaper on inside out — a feat that no one else could replicate — being a healthy and happy 33-year-old?

You may have a few more gray hairs and run the gauntlet of your share of trials and tribulations but look at your rewards. You are more than just still standing.

Life hasn’t always been a bed of roses which is why most of us have become wise enough to know when the last petal falls and the rose bush leaves start to turn brown you don’t wail “woe is me” but instead look about and see the beauty of what is around you.

Just like you don’t have to fly to New England to feast on fall colors the beauty of life is all around you. Whoever came up with the line “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” didn’t quite get it right.

There is beauty in everything.

The problem is we often don’t see it because we don’t even bother looking at it let alone look for it.

Further into the song “Try to Remember” are the following lines:

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember

Without the hurt, the heart is hollow

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember

The fire of September that made us mellow …

It’s true. All the anxiety of life tends to reach a pinnacle in the fall.

We’ve grown, labored to establish roots, and can see clearly the fruits we harvest.

The bounty of others may seem to shine more or be more exotic but they pale compared to what was produced with your heart and soul.

There is still a lot of life in the tree.

Knowing how long it will stand isn’t a privilege anyone is granted.

But if we were in the future looking back. we’d realize that the tree in the fall is still strong having weathered the test of time.

An oak, regardless of its age and stature, is still mighty until it comes crashing down.

The winds of fall can be brutal after we escaped unfazed from the summer but if we are still standing there is a new world of beauty unfolding that is heightened only because we have the yardsticks of spring and summer to measure by.

Spring may be wasted on the young but it is the old at heart that squander fall.

If you doubt that, take a drive and soak in the aspen hues in the Sierra.

Though each is beautiful in its own way, what is more soul inspiring and tantalizing to the eye — the growing greens of spring or the splash of fall colors?

Keep that in mind as we slide ever so surely into fall weather or else when you reach the vernal equinox of your life.

To contact Dennis Wyatt, email dwyatt@mantecabulletin.com