Summer's warm scents have gone. For some weeks now
we have luxuriated in the smells of fall, as the dry leaves have fallen and the
land takes on a new musty earthiness. For the first time a few days ago my nose
was tickled by the first hint of the coming cold weather. The first cold
mornings are with us, and today a hint of early winter's rain. When winter comes
we will lose the strong loamy smells as the earth freezes, and the rhododendra
coil their leaves inwardly against the chill. Then, in the spring thaw, how the
pugs will love it as they twitch their noses and snuffle in the newly uncovered
and moist remains of fall 2017. I will love it too, as the seasonal smells are
intoxicating.
This time of the year, nature, exhausted by
summer's excess, is ready to curl up and sleep, mirroring our daily human round
of sleep and wake, rest and activity.
It is fitting, then, that the ancients celebrated
this changing season with deep symbols of the cycle of life and death, seeing
this time of year as the beginning of the new.
The ancient Celts started their new year not with
the coming of spring, but with the turn from fall to winter. They recognized
that new life is nurtured long before spring. Seeds are sown and rest during
winter. Look closely and you will find buds already forming. In the sleep of
winter nature stores her energy, renews herself, and readies for the next round
of activity. It's the preparation of the winter months that makes for a good
spring. A too warm winter makes for a lackluster spring.
As in nature, so in life. New and fruitful
initiatives begin in silence and stillness. Rest must come before activity.
Storing energy makes for better growth.
At this time of the year the ancients remembered,
too, those who have gone before. The change from fall to winter reminds us of
death. The air is thin. The veil is as gossamer. Those who have gone before are
close. As nature sleeps in winter, so our ancestors sleep and it's fitting that
we honor them. November brings All Saints, and it's eve, Halloween, followed by
All Souls, with Remembrance Day a little later. I'll be thinking of my family
who have passed—my dad, dad-in-law, brother-in-law, and more distantly grandparents, and
cousins. I'll remember with gladness friends, too, who now sleep deeply. I'll
continue the British tradition and wear a poppy in remembrance, as I think of
those who have died in war.
Remembrance need not be morbid. The ancients
celebrated with feasting and playful mischief. In our culture, we continue the
tradition with Halloween. I'll enter the fun and games and enjoy the Ithaca
Harry Potter festival, weather permitting—Jane has knitted the pugs little house
scarves in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff colors.
It's a season of contrasts then—the harvest of the
last growth cycle gathered, the sowing of the new that is yet to be, the sleep
of winter, storing, nurturing, conserving energy, and a remembrance that we are
all as dust and to dust we return.
Enjoy the season!
+Ab. Andy
Pic: Monkey Run, 2017