Fall, now in its final week, is such an explosion of colors, the sky is an immense azure bowl, the sun a brilliant yellow ball. Leaves attain shades and hues to gladden the heart and make artists salivate.
The low angle of the sun makes it seem to shine blindingly in your eyes no matter which way you’re facing. That same angle makes for some killer photo opportunities.
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The opalescent quality of light in the fall, perhaps because of the short days and long nights, appears vastly different than it does during other seasons. Longer shadows accompanied by longer nights, while the sun seems to cling to the edge of the world and changes perspectives, alters our perceptions. It stays low enough here — it’s hard to imagine living somewhere the sun merely rolls along the horizon like a guttered bowling ball before sinking back out of sight — or doesn’t show at all. Bleh!
Late sunrises and early sunsets seem to be more spectacular, perhaps because the short days ensure we see more of them, and again, light. Maybe we just appreciate them more because they’re framed in such stark darkness. It’s crazy to me how much deeper and darker nights appear to be this time of year, when it seems like darkness should be the same dark year-round.
The immense forest fires and multiple volcanoes in various parts of the world this year have contributed to some glorious morning and evening colors due to lots of particulate matter in the air. This might mean we’re in for a colder-than-usual winter. If you’ve never read about it, check out “The Year Without a Summer.”
In our modern hustle-and-hurry world, fall is not the slowing-down time it used to be. That it’s meant to be. That our bodies and spirits crave.
Fall is designed to be … a good supper, sitting by the fireplace with a full belly and no pressing chores, perhaps with a good book or handiwork of some sort or other.
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The arrival of fall is like the hour before bedtime: Things should be gradually winding down and everyone — and everything — should be relaxing and preparing to rest.
In times past, crops would have been harvested and stored, wood chopped and stacked, homes and animals secured, even if you lived somewhere without harsh winters.
Other than daily chores, or maybe a hog killing or oyster roast, the hard work of spring and summer was as much a memory as the backbreaking toil that got you to this point of well-deserved rest.
The advent of electricity — wonderful thing that it is — has played a huge part in our not-slowing-down world. We’ve gotten so busy we’ve forgotten to listen to our bodies, to the seasons, and we bull on through instead of giving ourselves a break. Taking a breath, so to speak, before we launch into another spring and summer.
Heat and air conditioning — don’t get me wrong, I love them both — further our distance from the seasons. Climate control means we stay inside where it’s warm when it’s cold out and cool when it’s hot, protecting ourselves from weather. Nothing wrong with that, but humans are meant to be outside, to be in tune with the natural world around us. Many of us spend way too much of our time indoors, whether it’s at work, or taking care of our homes or whatever.
There is much joy to be discovered outside this time of year: Zero humidity and reasonable temps encourage us to get out more, despite the lessening of daylight hours.
Who doesn’t love crunching and scuffling through leaves? Miracles in themselves, leaves grow and store nutrients, then fall and blow around, providing overwintering resorts for insects and small critters. In their blowing around, they break down into smaller and smaller pieces, redistributing nutrients and enriching the soil, before they once more become soil, and eventually leaves again in a never-ending cycle celebrating life.
The rustling of the leaves in the trees or skittering across the ground adds to the delight. Ever seen a conglomeration of leaves en pointe swirling across the yard or down the road like a herd of indecisive lemmings? Seems like they deliberately stop and drop right in front of your steps, or better yet, your door like they’re just waiting for someone to open the door so they can scurry inside and spread the love.
The scent of woodsmoke in the air, the sound of migrating birds, the sight of migrating birds winging south across the sky all betoken a definite change. The Egypt birds (white ibis) strolling across lawns and pecking for grubs and such, are here and then gone. Insects, while never entirely absent, have vastly diminished in numbers. Little brown bats, so prevalent during summer twilights, with less food available, have gone wherever they go. Dragonflies, too.
Dogwoods and hollies and pyracantha are loaded with berries, some delights for us and some food for our feathered or furred friends. Various seeds drift or blow around, seeking a spot to hunker down until it’s time to sprout.
Fatter and sassier than ever, squirrels dash about in high gear, scurrying every which way toting pecans, acorns, hickory nuts and digging holes in every available patch of dirt they can find. Such a nuisance, but the cute little aggravating tree rats are doing what they’re supposed to. Not merely storing food for winter, but also planting future trees, because there’s no way they’ll remember even half the places they stashed their bounty.
Fallen leaves blanket the ground like a soft afghan draped across your favorite chair, or the way your favorite comforter cocoons you in your bed. Leaves serve pretty much the same purpose; keeping things warm and cozy.
The radiant colors will gradually fade to browns and tans, soon giving way to the grays of winter.
All the seasons have their reasons, and no matter which one is your favorite or why, rejoice in the changes and embrace the season you’re in right now.
