September 20, 2009 by Waverly Fitzgerald
Filed under SIGNS OF THE SEASON
A frosty late autumn, early morning photo of a churchyard in Llangathen, West Wales. The mist is rising from the river Tywi Valley (Towy in english). The ancient hillfort of Grongar Hill is in the distance. Taken by Sara Polke-Johns.
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Slow Time: Recovering the Natural Rhythm of Life by Waverly Fitzgerald
As the wheel turns into autumn I can see the difference in the sun. It’s amazing how quickly it changes once it starts going. My drive home includes the infamous Terwilliger Curves on I-5 south out of downtown Portland, Oregon. The interstate makes a 90 degree turn from south to due west before turning south west and eventually south. It is known for it’s accidents and traffic snarls but I was shocked at how bad the traffic was last week. As I inched up on the turn I realized what was happening. All summer I would have to pull down my car’s visor as I made the turn to shade my eyes from the sun coming around the curve and out of the shadow of the hill. The close-to-equinox sun wasn’t just lighting the freeway, though, it was blinding drivers! The shortening days caused the coincidence of the low sun with the evening commute, and the equinox sun is sets directly in the path of the west facing highway. Those of us driving that one mile of road in that one hour of time were blinded to the point of driving 5 miles an hour on the freeway. Luckily, the wheel keeps turning and soon the sun will be setting before my commute, and further to the south. See, winter isn’t all bad
I am in month nine of a two year stay in Amsterdam and note wistfully that at 7:10 am, while drinking my morning coffee, the sky is still completely dark. The wind has returned this week, too, and I am glad to have a bit of knitting in my lap in the evenings.
I’ve discovered a new sign for the change of season into fall, where I live, in New Mexico. It is the abundance of beautiful prickly pear fruit. Some friends along with my boyfriend and myself have begun harvesting and processing this beautifully colored fruit so we can enjoy this unique flavor from our region. I’ll be making my first batch of prickly pear syrup this week. I can’t wait!
The spiders are weaving their webs on the grass now….a sure sign of autumn in the midwest.
Oh, yes. Tis autumn. I saw the goldenrod in full bloom waving from the side of the road.
Here’s a look at the last day of summer on the Chesapeake Bay from the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Photo by Leslie Raimond.
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/photo.php?pid=3070124&id=624931960
Autumn signs of the season!
The sweet, blackberry/grape scent of Elderberries hangs in the air; great, dripping hands of them on every stem. Quick, get some before the birds do, make Elderberry Syrup and jam! Monitor, WA. (near Wenatchee, East of the Cascades)
Alyss–Yes, I have experienced this phenomenon in Seattle. In fact, I try to avoid driving west around the Autumn Equinox near sunset as there are moments when the sun is so bright I can’t see anything at all.
I love the variety and range of all these signs of autumn: spider webs, goldenrod, prickly pear, the comfort of knitting. Your descriptions are so specific to your places. And yet so autumnal.
After a break of two glorious days, warm, golden and perfect, the Long Island is receiving more of the rain we have had in abundance since late April. With so little sun, the trees here are beginning to change strangely. They are deeply watered, and yet the leaves are turning brown and beginning to curl and fall without showing colour at all. Altheas still blossom in pinks, magentas, lavender and white; grasses set interesting seed plumes, and autumn clematis rambles over hedges, up the drainspout of my house, and over embankments like early snow. Starry asters and Michalemas daisies are beginning to bloom as well, and where the wild roses of spring shed their soggy petals, the canes are now covered with sprays of tiny, red rose hips. It does not yet feel like autumn, although the Equinox and Mabon are just past. Perhaps this displaced sense of time is because no one here feels as if we had any spring or even a fair taste of summer. A streak of sunny weather may help the leaves to turn as they should. Long Island is full of Norway maples, often considered “weed trees’, but able to light up a rainy fall day with their brilliant golden leaves. My sable collie finds them a perfect camofluage and blends right in to any pile she lies on. It has poured all day, but as I write this, the sun breaks out of the mist, and it appears that if there is not yet colour in the trees, there will be some in the sky at sunset.
Here in Alabama, I have noticed through the years an autumn onslaught of yellow butterflies, all apparently headed due south. I start seeing them during the still-blistering heat of August — it’s that first comforting sign of autumn for me — and by the time I notice their absence, mid October somewhere, the heat has broken and the trees are turning. They are harbingers of cooler weather. Happily, I have never identified them…
Here in south central Pennsylvania, I notice when I wake up that although the grass and leaves are still green and intact, the bright kelly greens of summer are daily “grayed down”. It’s easier to spot my cat hiding among the foliage that was so lush just a few weeks ago. Squirrels hurry to crunch off the red berries on the canopy of the dogwood outside my bathroom window, scattering a few in the driveway. And today, with its high wind advisory, it was a good day to dry freshly washed area rugs outside, so as to save on the electricity required by the dryer.
Since I have started to jog, I notice the changing of the seasons in the hedgerow as I go along. October has brought me many gifts: Chenipodiums in seed, wild rose hips turning red and the beautiful colors of the poison oak (out to fool the botanically challenged?).
As the days get shorter, I find myself lighting candles while I make dinner. I love the Autumn sun, with it’s lessened intensity brings pleasure mixed with a melancholy. I do little in the garden, as the vegetables fade- but still the nasturtiums bloom! I did plant some bulbs along the driveway, enjoying the texture of the dirt and thinking how nice it will be to see them in Spring.
My older daughter and I were walking in the downtown of our small town. As we walked along the street, she picked up fallen leaves talking about the colors and which leaf was her favorite. It’s a glorious time of year!
In Pittsburgh I’ve noticed the greying of the greens as well. The black squirrels are out en masse and today is supposedly the last day of this year’s Indian summer. I took these last week in the rain by the river:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/elvaundine/4017568971/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/elvaundine/4018327138/
I love autumn in Pennsylvania.
The windy and rainy season has arrived in Rainier, WA. The leaves are dropping off of the maples, alders, Oregon ash, cottonwood and I can now begin to see the large pasture across the Deschutes River from my home. Soon the leaves will all be gone and I will see the sheep grazing in their field all winter. The rains will come and I will see the Deschutes rise 5, 10, 12 feet to flood stage and I will stand on my deck and hope that once again, the river will rush by and not stop too long to visit. The brilliant colors of the last two weeks are turning brown and soon our first big wind storm of the season will take those leaves away. My Siberian Huskies are all blowing their coats as they grow the heavy thick fur that is both warm and waterproof.
Along the shoulder of my road,as I walk the dogs up the block, the Morels poke their ghostly heads above the road gravel. The bright orange of this years woodpiles are stacked and waiting their turn at the fire. Samhain..Here comes winter. Happy New Year!
Among all of the other wonderful sings of autumn in New England, like all of the farmstands stocked with crisp Mac & McGowan apples, and dried corn stalks, here in North Central MA the witchhazel is in bloom! This is the only plant that I am aware of that sends its blossoms out in fall rather than spring…
Yesterday I walked a trail in the Blue Ridge Mts. of N.C. that I have walked many times for 15 years. However, yesterday I noticed it was different and sometimes in an eery way, unrecognizable because of the fallen leaves. I had to work harder to keep my footing because of roots and holes hidden by the leaves. And then there was the sound… rustling…for 7 miles. Autumn seems to bring opportunity to have ‘beginners mind’ and see something well known with new and fresh curiosity. The walk spurred a haiku:
“rustling
for 7 miles…
autumn hike”
JS
We’ve had so much rain here in Atlanta that there was little time to watch the leaves change color before they started to fall. The grounds where I walk my dog every day were bare just days ago; now they’re covered in orange, yellow, and brown leaves, like a multicolored blanket laid over the dirt.