The following
is another snippet from my upcoming book … one that did not make the cut
for Writing on the Landscape.
“AUTUMN REVERIE:
Blazes of color. Breezes that sharpen the
air. Greens have faded again—and as the nights cool, magic happens in tree
leaves so that we awaken to find a fiery spectacle of glory. Grasses have died
and the refreshment of autumn rains begins to dampen the soil that has been
thirsty for more than a season. The days are beginning to shorten in a very
noticeable way this week. What was vibrant and verdant is now falling to the
ground as decaying stuff that returns nutrients to the waiting land.
Vistas open up as leaves begin to drop off limbs. But the grace of a death that
is adorned with such intense colors—auburns, golds, reds—reminds us that the
life cycles are part of what is normal, what is natural. The moonrises appear
exceedingly orange, close, impossibly-large.
Transition. Moderation. Autumn is the
season that closes the door on the rampant activity of the physical, traveling
summertime. For it is in the harvests of autumn and turning inward that we
begin to see the bounty that was. It is time for routine, rest, reflection.
And this looking inward turns us to the
place of emotions, perhaps memories with feelings we have forgotten. Perhaps
dreams that we put on hold, that require energy and effort that our
out-in-the-summer landscapes pushed away. As the light diminishes, we begin to
see the dark parts of ourselves: those hidden, those we do not prefer to spend
time with, those that are nonetheless very instructive and rich places for us
to spend a season exploring.”
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2017 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
