Does autumn have a soul? I think so. It's a teasing paradoxical soul heaped with both gratitude and scorn, bountiful harvests of plenty and bereft fields littered with discarded misfits. Colourful and muted...................it flirtatiously engages you with its vibrant reds and yellows and then grounds you with it's earthiness of rusty brown.
It has a soulful melancholy lament when the frost-nipped wind is allowed to bellow and moan.........making the trees bend while desparately trying to hold on to their youth.........forcing the brittle bone leaves to rattle and crackle as they tumble along the grey pavement. But it also has a merlot jazzy sound to it as well that accompanies the moody late afternoon light that ripples off the river.
The end of the day. The dying days of the year. Embers and elegies surrounded by a cavalcade of birds swooping down to say goodbye to the once fanciful flowers.
Autumn forces us to remember the battles won and lost.........with poppies and bagpipes and wreaths, with antique uniforms clothing smart elderly men who have autumn in their souls and spring in their hearts and minds. Attentive to the sound of one horn piercing the moment of silence.
Autumn is a serious thought full soul.........of contemplation, protestation and interpretation. Dialogue turns to the big questions as opposed to the frothy light fare of summer. What if? How come? Why? Why?
The late autumn soul is retiring. Looking back...........and looking forward a little bit, and then looking back assessing. Was it bountiful? Did I do everything I had wanted to do? Were all my waking moments filled with living life?
Hoping for another warm day.........just one more warm gift of a day.........before I forget what the summer suns feels like, the soul of autumn turns our attention to mortality.
Think it's time to pour ourselves a brandy.................to warm the soul.
It has a soulful melancholy lament when the frost-nipped wind is allowed to bellow and moan.........making the trees bend while desparately trying to hold on to their youth.........forcing the brittle bone leaves to rattle and crackle as they tumble along the grey pavement. But it also has a merlot jazzy sound to it as well that accompanies the moody late afternoon light that ripples off the river.
The end of the day. The dying days of the year. Embers and elegies surrounded by a cavalcade of birds swooping down to say goodbye to the once fanciful flowers.
Autumn forces us to remember the battles won and lost.........with poppies and bagpipes and wreaths, with antique uniforms clothing smart elderly men who have autumn in their souls and spring in their hearts and minds. Attentive to the sound of one horn piercing the moment of silence.
Autumn is a serious thought full soul.........of contemplation, protestation and interpretation. Dialogue turns to the big questions as opposed to the frothy light fare of summer. What if? How come? Why? Why?
The late autumn soul is retiring. Looking back...........and looking forward a little bit, and then looking back assessing. Was it bountiful? Did I do everything I had wanted to do? Were all my waking moments filled with living life?
Hoping for another warm day.........just one more warm gift of a day.........before I forget what the summer suns feels like, the soul of autumn turns our attention to mortality.
Think it's time to pour ourselves a brandy.................to warm the soul.
15 comments:
That's a nice bowl of potpourri ya got there, A. Must make the house smell good, I guess...
You can have the brandy... I'll have a nice glass of fine old port...
I find a reflect back a lot in Autumn. Mostly because the colours are so beautiful I can't NOT be outside. I love it...and I wish it could last longer. Here's to the soul of fall! :)
Judy Collins has an album entitled "Colours Of The Day." The musical collage often comes up autumn in my mind.
The white clouds are just a tad more billowy, the sky a deeper shade of blue. The grass is a mixture of brown and green and the leaves are as a multi-colored lady. Pumpkins seal the deal with their orange aura....
I live in Ottawa, where the fall colours are gorgeous. But to me the fall is about smells more than colour. Spring is mud and water, and summer is heat baked fields. But the scent of autumn is the smell of an early evening, a couple of days after first frost, when the air is as rich and mysterious as wine. Apples and leaves. Woodsmoke. Night.
Cs.......One day you and I will share a toast of brandy and port..........that would be most interesting.
K......I love the fall too. Today (as in Montreal I suspect) was blustery and November like. The leaves have almost all been blown down. So, it has a new feel in the air. Winter is fast approaching.
Arlen.......beautiful imagery. I love Judy Collins. I havent listened to her ethereal sound in a long time. I must revist her. I also saw your comment on Paul's blog about Gordon Lightfoot. I took today off to prepare the garden for winter and to putter around the house making room for mittens and the like......I had Lightfoot playing all afternoon. My favourite is Song for a Winter's Night. One day on a snowy January I will post the lyrics. I think it is the quintessential Canadian romantic love song.
Balbulican......it's funny. When I sat down to write the piece, my initial focus was on the autumn aromas and somehow I missed adding it to the piece. I agree with you. It was the loamy scents in the garden that piqued my interest in looking at the soul of autumn, but then ended up writing more about the November side of the equation and not the savoury harvest scents of cider, and woodsmoke.....Autumn is defined (like all seasons) by its scents and aromas......you're exactly right.
Awareness, you're on for that toast someday... ;)
I live in a world of bouquets and aromas and I can attest to the fact that smell is often the most evovative of our senses.
Periodically, I am moved, (even to tears) by songs that I have not heard for years, or just not heard recently enough and I know that music (like radio) is a deeply personal medium.
But nothing can create images in my mind or revive memories like smell.
Like those experienced on a recent stroll through the elementary school I attended 40 years ago (yikes! - wasn't that a trip!) or on my daily autumn walks near the marsh (which immediately blasts my brain with pictures and fills my hear with "awareness" of my dad, my brother and our long gone but much loved labrador retreiver.
Yes, I think that balbulican said it best when reminding us of the unique smells of the seasons (the true glory of living where there are four) but, for me as well, the ultimate eminence of autumn.
C.S. and awareness - even though it is probably not appropriate when toasting - the most delectable part of port and brandy can be their captivating bouquets...
Welcome House.....that was beautifully and poetically written. I can picture you out walking soaking in the earthy aromas of you piece of heaven on earth. And then, sitting in front of the warm glow of the fireplace with a snifter in your hand listening to heart pulling tunes from a past we share a piece of.
Cheers to you.
Ya know, on the other hand, if you happen to have a bottle of Remy Martin Napoleon Cognac... I might save the Taylor Fladgate for another time...
But I doubt any brandy or cognac, on the nose, can hold a candle to the fine complexity of a well-aged ruby from Portugal herself...
I wonder if I'll see anyone dressed up tonight as Mohammed? Now, that'd be cool, wouldn't it? Of course, it'd be dangerous, too, as there might be some kids dressed up as jihadists who'll pretend to get mad when they see the bearded-guy-with-the-bomb-in-his-turban kid...
Heh!
Gee C.S. - I have a few bottles left of 1981 Early Landed Hine Grande Champagne Cognac which has held many a candle!
Though, I am certain my bride would surely prefer something from the Douro - Ruby, Tawny or otherwise too....
Both are worthy candidates for a serious toast between friends.
Lovely, just lovely. You painted a picture of Autumn so well, I could smell the hues in each word.
And then your commenters added so nicely.... making me remember why I love this time of year.
Raising a glass of wine to you to celebrate the colors and soul of Autumn.
I'm reminded of a wine I spotted recently and of which Halloween just reminded me.
It's from Transylvania. The name on the label is "Vampire".
I believe it was a red, naturally, the color of blood...
Ooooooweeeeeooooooaaahhhhhh!
There's also a wine that reminds me of Paul Martin: "The Old Fart"... :b
Did anybody else have their early feelings about autumn shaped by the writings of Ray Bradbury?
Gorgeous photo and ode to my favourite season!
Balbulican......the only Bradbury novel I read was in high school...Farhenheit 451....and I can't remember a whole lot of it. He was a poet too though, wasn't he?
Ellen......YES the comments on this site have been marvellous. It does make you want to toast to the season. I highly suggest that we allow Mr. House on the Island supply the tasty nectar of the Gods......and not my friend Mr. Sentinel Guy or we'll end up with something that has a name to it like "fat bastard" or "Cat's Pee on a Gooseberry Bush" or something aussie like that. :)
Today was a gift........the temp. soared and the sun poured....and I longed to be outside by the river soaking it up. It was a beautiful late fall day.......a no coat day in November. Tomorrow, they are calling for snow.
Paris......Welcome back. I look forward to reading more of your studies and trip to Seville.
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