"Autumn", aka "Fall", etc., etc.  The word generally implies luxurious foliage, crisp air, crunching leaves...all the cliches.  Some find it an envigorating time.  I have never felt this way, not even as a child.  Back in those days when summer went on forever, a child could be blessed with the freedom to think, to lay out in an evening and wish to know the stars, to look up from the same spot after a summer shower, knowing that those clouds truly had been those snow drifts that were finally gone. Then fall came.  School started again.  Once more, I would be struggling day to day hoping that my efforts would be tested and found worthy.  Freedom gone for another season. Not nice.  Not nice at all.
I still find autumn to be a stressful time.  Some of the reasons for this are similar to those I had as a child.  This is the time where we are faced with deadlines.  The most obvious deadline is signaled by the "killing frost".  The most accepted definition for this phrase seems to be "The temperature has to get down to 28F for a complete kill on corn and soybean plants. "  I never have raised corn or soybeans, but I do recognize that horrid dark green (turning to hideous yellow) that signals that one's tomatoes have been frost-bitten.  I have learned that there is no coming back from that condition.  No more harvesting, processing, or canning once that 'killing frost' has occurred.  Sometimes reaching this point in one's gardening efforts signals rest and relief. Sometimes this point serves to teach yet more lessons. My mind argues between the gut-deep need to avoid wasting anything and the gratitude for an acceptable excuse for just letting the rest of it all go to its natural end.
Have I been found worthy?  When we finally come to the point where we are harvesting, we look behind us and see the gaping holes where the earth has given up the final result of our spring's planting, our summer's weeding and watering.  Thankfully, we haul the potato crop to the bin in the cellar.  No, it may not have been as abundant as other years, but....there were none lost to slugs, and there will be more than enough for the winter.  There will probably even be enough remaining so that we have seed for next year's crop.  The handful of carrots is enough for a couple more meals of fresh carrots...and, even better, it allows us to take the anomalies, the carrots that invite creative naming, to the friend whose children will very probably shock and delight their parents with their choices.  It is exactly what we had planned:  we had the carrots we wanted for fresh use, we don't have to can or freeze more as we are still enjoying what we preserved last year.  The green beans were the climbing type.  They are very slow when compared to the bush variety.  We had given up on their even sprouting when they suddenly draped the stockade panel with vines.  Lovely.  Lovely blossoms, too.  OK...where are the beans? Eventually, there were beans, but, since we had only planted them because 'they were there', we had the few fresh ones that we seem to crave each year and then we were satisfied.  Lesson learned:  no more climbing beans, we are sticking to the bush type.
All told, though, we will eat this winter and we will be fed well. 
Each year, we are challenged to be ready for winter, ready for the time when the killing frost has become the ice and brutal cold of a prairie winter.  Ready?  What on earth does that mean, anyway?  I have reached a point where I can accept that one can never really be 'ready'.  One can only hope to have accomplished some of those tasks that will assure some safety and some peaceful security as the winter drops on us like a stone.  Each time we stand back and realize that another project has been completed toward this goal, I feel a sense of ....yes, a sense of being found worthy.  This assurance makes it easier to fall asleep at night without feeling yet another twinge of fear regarding unfinished tasks....what about hay?  How can we make sure that our livestock is well-fed and safe through the winter months?  How? How much?
 Dad used to say "If you can't do something about the situation TODAY, for heaven's sake don't WORRY about it today because the worry in itself doesn't solve anything and is a waste of energy."
My dad also used to tell me that I was always my own most demanding critic, that I was harder to please than anyone else who may be judging me.  When we reach the end of a day, I find that I need to be able to live up to a goal that my dad once set for himself.  I need be able to look back over my day and find that the world is indeed better (in  however small a way, ) for my having been in it.