VICAR
Dear Readers of Country Squire Magazine, I’ve been thinking, this week, about the turning of the year. The mornings are cooler now, and there is a mist in the valley that lingers until noon. The hedgerows are heavy with berries—haws and hips and sloes—and the swallows are gathering on the wires, preparing for their long journey south. The leaves are beginning to turn, not all at once, but slowly, patiently, as if the trees are reluctant to let go. Autumn is here. And with it, a new kind of beauty—not the lush abundance of summer, but something quieter, more reflective. The beauty of things that are passing, and the wisdom of letting them go.
So today, a prayer for autumn—for the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, and for the lessons it teaches us about change, and loss, and hope.
Dear Lord,
We thank You for the turning of the seasons. For the cool mornings and the golden afternoons. For the mist that lies in the valley and the dew that jewels the grass. For the first hint of amber in the hedgerow and the first fall of leaves on the lawn. Autumn is upon us, and we welcome it as a friend.
We thank You for the beauty of this season. For the trees that blaze with colour—the oak and the ash, the beech and the birch. For the bracken that turns to rust on the hillside and the ivy that flowers in the hedge. For the low, slanting light that gilds everything it touches. Let us drink in this beauty, Lord. Let us store it up in our hearts for the grey days of winter.
We thank You for the harvest that is gathered in. For the apples that fall from the tree and the blackberries that stain our fingers. For the pumpkins and the squashes, the roots and the tubers. For the last of the tomatoes and the first of the sloes. Let us be grateful for the earth’s abundance, and let us share it with those in need.
We thank You for the creatures that prepare for winter. For the squirrels that bury their nuts and the hedgehogs that search for a place to sleep. For the birds that flock together and the deer that grow their thicker coats. Let them find shelter and sustenance in the months ahead. And let us remember to care for them—to put out food and water, to leave a corner of the garden wild, to make room for the wild things in our lives.
We pray for the farmers in this season of change. For those who are bringing in the last of the harvest and preparing the fields for winter. For those who are sowing next year’s crops and hoping for a better year to come. Give them strength for the work ahead. And let them rest when the work is done.
We pray for those who find autumn difficult. For the ones whose spirits fall with the leaves. For the ones who dread the darkening evenings and the shortening days. Be with them, Lord. Send them light in the darkness. Send them warmth in the cold. Send them hope in the season of letting go.
We thank You for the lessons of autumn. For the reminder that nothing lasts forever—not the summer, not the harvest, not even our own lives. For the teaching that letting go is not loss, but release. For the wisdom that there is beauty in decay, and that death is not the end, but the beginning of something new. Help us to embrace these lessons, Lord. Help us to let go of what we cannot keep, and to trust in Your promise of renewal.
We pray for the church in this season. For the harvest festivals and the prayers of thanksgiving. For the quiet evenings and the longer nights. Let this be a time of reflection and renewal for us all. Let us draw closer to You as the nights draw in.
And finally, Lord, we thank You for the promise of spring. For the bulbs that lie sleeping in the earth. For the buds that wait on the bare branches. For the knowledge that the winter will pass and the world will wake again. Autumn is not an ending. It is a preparation. And we trust in Your goodness, and in the turning of the year.
Bless this season, Lord. Bless the falling leaves and the cooling air. Bless the harvest and the rest. And bless us, as we learn to let go, and to trust in You.
Amen.
God Bless You All.
Photograph: Hereford Cathedral