The autumn equinox occurred while I was playing bridge. I didn’t particularly notice any change although “officially” it was still summer when I left my house at mid day, and it was autumn when I returned.
It has felt like autumn in my yard for some time now. These things don’t happen automatically after all, like the flipping of a switch.
The light has been changing slowly, as it does, and I noticed a shift in the quality of the light, the angle, perhaps the wavelength, in August. Again this is normal, the light tends to lean more toward what I think of as Autumnal light before the pivot point, what we call the equinox, actually occurs. It has been different in each place I have lived, but here I can reliably expect that change in late August.
As the light shifts the early morning birdsong changes as well. Then the scent in the air changes and a subtle note of earth, of humus, of decay begins to emerge. The garden smells different.
There are still flowers of course. The autumnal blossoms like the sedum above make me smile. The summer annuals are still in bloom. I didn’t plant annuals this year, but they surround me on my walks, and as long as the temperatures remain warm they will continue to blossom. I know they too will fade soon enough.
I love autumn. I love walking on autumn mornings. I love the sense of slowness, of waiting, that autumn brings. I love the promise of rest, of dormancy, of letting go. Yes, I even love the reminder of death. It seems that in our culture we try to deny the presence of death, to deny the need to rest, perhaps even to hibernate. But it is from death that life comes forth, and I love the cycle. Even though spring is filled with promise, I always feel that autumn is filled with repose and with hope.