It’s undeniable. The shift has occurred, or the collapse as Oscar Wilde writes. All of the other seasons seem to creep in around the edges, but not fall. The leaves on the trees are green – and then suddenly they’re not. One day we’re swimming, the next we’re wearing polars and searching out a sunlit place to have our morning coffee.
There’s a poignancy to the fall. Smells and sounds are intensified and nostalgia runs deep. The crate of apples at the back door, the muskiness of freshly raked leaves, and the honking of the first geese to fly overhead is the stuff of poetry.
Even the clouds hang differently in the sky at this time of year: they are lower and heavier and seem to blanket the landscape. And the chillier nights have fog snaking into the valleys waiting for the weakening sun to burn it off a bit later each day.
Fall is the last act of the seasonal play. Lucky for us, we all get to be actors in this final scene. For me, that means enjoying every mouthful of fresh produce while it is still available.
And spending as much time outdoors as possible.
Perhaps it’s knowing that the end is in sight that makes this last season all the sweeter. There’s no more looking forward, there is only now. And now is very, very generous.
Enjoy this transition to fall everyone!
So well and poetically put, Carolyn.
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Thanks, David. My favourite season approaches. I find I wilt in the summer.
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