‘Tis past! No more the summer blooms
Ascending in the rear,
Behold congenial autumn comes,
The Sabbath of the year!*
~ ~ ~
*A visit to the Country in Autumn by
Scottish poet John Logan (1747–88)
Reality versus perception. That’s what this is about. I know one day on the calendar is little different than the day before it or the day after. The sun rose a minute later today, and will set two minutes earlier, but otherwise not much has changed. But today is the autumnal equinox and suddenly it feels like fall.
I’ve been noticing hints of its approach — those dratted spiders hanging out everywhere in their webs (why, oh, why do they have to dangle right at face level?), leaves fluttering down among recent raindrops, subtle colour changes in the garden that I’m sure weren’t there last weekend.
There’s a new freshness to the warmth of today’s sunshine … crisp undertones that bespeak of a hastening away from summer’s heat. It isn’t quite time to pull out the garden annuals, but the spiky Iris and Daylily leaves are droopy, hinting that it’s time to cut them back. I’m sure they don’t look any worse than they did yesterday, but today they’ve edged into my awareness, along with the blousy, browning Hydrangea blooms.
Yesterday was summer, but at some point when I wasn’t paying attention it went into decline; today is autumn.
“The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter wools.”
“Neither say they in their heart, Let us now fear the LORD our God, that gives rain, both the former and the latter, in his season: he reserves unto us the appointed weeks of the harvest.”
“Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.”
~ ~ ~
One thing I love about living on the BC south coast is having four distinct seasons. I can’t envision living where it’s green and warm all year ’round. Granted, I don’t enjoy being too hot in summer, or too cold in winter (or constantly wet in spring and fall), but I love the variety each year. Just when the status quo begins to get tiresome, everything changes.
Last week, on one of our showery days, I discovered leaves were beginning to fall. Smatterings of gold and brown scattered over slick grass and shiny pavement.
My first reaction was surprise, followed by regret. How can the season of sunshine be ending so soon? I’m not ready to say goodbye to shorts and sandals weather, or the lazy, unscheduled days of summer. But what I want doesn’t much matter to Mother Nature. If change is due, change will come, and like it or not, it’s that time of the year.
I’ll adjust. Oh, I’ll probably grumble a little, but before long you’ll notice I’m raving about autumn’s changing colours and the fresh, crisp edge to its shortening days. Thanksgiving will come, and the Surrey International Writers’ Conference, which is always a highlight of my year. I love autumn!
Life is full of changes but there is also continuity. I like the saying, “When God closes a door, he opens a window.” If we’re fixated on the closed door, however, we won’t notice the window opening.
In our church, an August day brought the devastating news that our pastor’s wife had suddenly died. Amid the shock and sadness, our Vacation Bible School needed to carry on. Now that September’s here, groups that were dormant through the summer must refocus and begin again. Where needed, other people are stepping in to take up tasks to which they will bring their own unique abilities. Ministry will continue, albeit in different ways within a hurting community. We will be more prayerful this fall, and hopefully more aware, more loving.
Changes happen. After the hurt begins to ease, a season of healing will come. God is always faithful. A new season always comes.
“Know therefore that the Lord your God is God,
the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love
with those who love him and keep his commandments,
to a thousand generations.”
~ ~ ~
“Pain is no evil, unless it conquers us.”
~ Charles Kingsley ~
Sorry, no profound words today. I’m back to writing and using every spare moment to work on my NaNoWriMo project. A gal does what a gal has to do in November. 🙂
Just a musing today…
The first fall after we planted our Burning Bush shrub in the front yard, its leaves turned a brilliant scarlet. Most other years since then a few leaves partially changed, but the majority remained mottled green until they eventually ended up on the ground.
This fall’s changes have been somewhere in between — some nice colour, but nothing so vivid as the first year. In the back yard a few shrubs are still changing, while others have already dropped their leaves before any colour had a chance to develop. Strangely, the annual Begonias out in the garden are still blooming, while on the back deck our hanging baskets and tubs have lost their flowers and only gangly greenery remains.
Autumn is my favourite time of the year. Although I admit to liking something about every new season, I’m always happy to escape summer’s intolerable heat, winter’s barren landscapes, and spring’s on-again, off-again rain.
Winter is an etching,
spring a watercolor,
summer an oil painting
and autumn a mosaic of them all.
We teeter on the brink of another new month, drawing closer to winter, wondering what effect the predicted El Nino may have. I think it must be time to retrieve the boxes of winter clothes from the basement. After months of T-shirts and cotton blouses, I’m looking forward to cozy turtlenecks and woollen sweaters.
The leaves fall, the wind blows,
and the farm country slowly changes
from the summer cottons
into its winter wools.
[Henry Beston, Northern Farm]
~ ~ ~
(I’m not a huge fan of Hallowe’en,
but for those who are…
They always seem to arrive before I expect them. When the Northern Flicker made his first autumn appearance here I didn’t have my camera handy. I made a dash for it, but I needn’t have hurried. He hopped onto the railing and waited impatiently.
He peered up at where he’d last seen the suet and bird feeders seven months ago. How does one explain to a bird that it’s too early in the season to hang his food out… that the bears are still roaming around looking for tasty treats?
His presence was a great photo opp for me, but he soon had me feeling guilty as he moved in closer to scrutinize the usual corner where the suet hook sat empty, just under the eaves.
His buddy, a male Varied Thrush, arrived on the deck at the same time and stomped around, also peeved at his missing repast. He’s a ground feeder like the Flicker, but during past winters they’d grown accustomed to an occasional domestic supplement. Now they were here looking for a handout of the good stuff once again.
I finally took pity on both of them and threw a few handfuls of seed on the deck while hubby hung a container of suet. If the bear arrives to chow down, too, I’m going to be frustrated, but there was only so long I could handle the guilt trip these two were dumping on me.
As I watched them enjoying the goodies, I was reminded that I will soon have to do some persistent searching of my own. As I bash out the words of a first draft during this NaNoWriMo writing marathon, I recognize that the underlying story is present, but it’s minus a lot of the good stuff… the rich descriptions, insights into my characters’ motivation, and sensory details, to name some. There is an abundance of weak verbs and supporting adverbs to cull, too, along with a lot of my typical mental meandering.
Once November 30th becomes history it will be time for me to start revising. I’ll have to dig in and search out nuggets to salvage among the drivel. In the meantime, I’m dumping words on the page, a few hundred at a time, and squelching the internal critic that tries to convince me my daily average isn’t half what it should be and I’m pursuing an impossible goal.
Total words to November 13th = 7,786
Are you writing? Are you counting words and making measurable progress, or does that matter to you? Are you focused on finishing a project and gleaning the good stuff later?
~ ~ ~