The following is another ramble about autumn. Again, off-the-cuff, depositing built up words and thoughts wracked up in my brain over the course of the week. It is some thoughts about beauty and the sentimentality of what autumn is to me. I hope you enjoy.
The last quarter of the year 2019 has arrived with the first day of autumn. The once green and lush forests of northern Canada are turning to their cooler, winter plumage. The leaves turn red, then yellow, then fall to the ground with the gentle touch of a finger. A muted rainbow of red and orange begin to dot randomly with the still-green ones, knowing their turn will be next.
Then, you have the mighty conifers and evergreens, the army of spruce and cedar, the firs and the pines. As the season progresses, they take command, becoming the only green plumage in a sea of white and chill. The maples, birches, willows, and every other seasonal tree hand over the reigns of Boreal dominance as the evergreens watch over them while they slumber into hibernation until spring as the landscape changes from a lush green to a distant grey.
Autumn is a special time in northern Canada. Families go out to rake the leaves while the children play in them. Birds prepare to fly south on their annual migrations to bask in the warmth of the southern sun. Woodland creatures begin their preparations for hibernation; squirrels gather their nuts, bears prepare their dens, and moose loose all their sense. Never mind the leaves changing colours, autumn marks when the world, dominated by seasonal activity, goes upside down.
A spot of brandy every once in awhile wouldn’t go amiss, either.
With the increasingly varied weather coming upon us in recent years, it’s hard not to notice some of the problems. Birds get confused, as do we. Leaves change very early or very late. Plants start to die, or live longer, and leaves stay strong or wither too early. It’s madness. With the unusual weather patterns we had with summer, being very very hot, then suddenly very cold, and then extremes throughout the day, I’m surprised we launched into autumn like a mighty and sudden thwack of a hammer. Summer just turned into fall. In fact, we seem to be having normal temperatures so far, temperatures which, in recent years, have been warmer and long-lasting, and every thing under the sun has been confused.
It seems, so far, that the autumns that I remember in the past, has come back this year. It’s mid-September, and the temperatures are in the teens, cloudy and rainy. Just the way it should be.
Today is an exception. The temperature rose to a high of twenty-six degrees Celsius with a humidex of thirty-one. Mid-July weather. There was also a large, rather pleasing fog over Ramsey Lake this morning. It was a low fog, just enough to mysteriously cover the water, while the rest of the landscape and islands stuck out in stark contrast. I like that kind of weather. It presents the mysterious unknown of what is yet to come, be it rain or shine.
As it happens, autumn downpours are just around the corner, with rain and thundershowers to give all of Sudbury a bath. There is nothing more pleasing than to sit by a window in your home, snug and warm with a glass of scotch or brandy, and watch the rain come pouring down over everything around you. It puts you in a solitary mood. There’s something about that cold autumn weather that puts you in that reflective frame of mind. You’re not actually doing anything, like video games or reading a book. You’re just watching weather and the world go by, second by second, minute by minute. Yet, it is as if you are doing something, something medicinal, something meditative.
No matter where you are—in the city or in cottage country—the spiritual feeling is the same everywhere. Sometimes it’s a miserable feeling, and sometimes it’s that feeling of despondence that makes you aware of the changing of the seasons, followed with the realization you are changing as well. You become aware of your own mortality for just a few moments.
Or, you may be like some people, and not give a toss, and get on with life. Maybe you are one of those people, and that’s okay. We all have to get on with our lives. We don’t all have time to enjoy autumn like we should, and I think that is just a bit sad.
I sometimes do long journeys by foot around town at this time of year, but staying outside of the busy city areas. Not only does it give me a chance to reflect on my own experiences so far, but it gives me the opportunity to see nature as it changes. It allows me that little bit of time to reflect; and if the weather is truly miserable, I will sit by that window. Nothing else. No computer, no television, no books.
Autumn is a very beautiful season. I suppose that is true for any part of the world. Like I said, everything begins to change. Although I believe winter to be the most beautiful, the fall is the most sentimental and reflective; and nowhere does nature do autumn better than in natural landscapes of Canada.