The Moody Side of Autumn Beauty

 

Before the magic show of turning leaves, autumn days have a soft foreboding quality that I find beautiful. The last roses bloom pale and their petals will drop soon. Full round pumpkins have hard shells to insulate against the coming chill. Preservation. Harvest. Gathering in.

It seems like we have so many seasons when we are young but as we age I’ve come to understand that the reason seasons repeat so continuously without variation is that the lesson to be learned is hard. Things change. Bodies change. Relationships change. All that is mortal  is impermanent. If you are very, very blessed, you have stumbled upon what endures. I hope you have.

I took these shots at the Arboretum yesterday, where I laughed and felt lighthearted with my husband and daughter-in-law Hayley. Only later did it occur to me how somber the photos are that I took. Perhaps it is because I walked here so many times with my baby, with a group of small school children, with my husband when we were younger and newly in love. That’s the seasons; all that has passed. Our family, though it looks quite different, is still here. And the same gaiety I felt as a child myself at  mums and pumpkins and twilight.

                                                         

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

In the studio yesterday, Marci told me that she was turning her cell phone off more often. She was weary of the drama. She was happy glazing; excited about a new design. This, above all, I have wanted to impart to my teen daughter.

After some early success in the fine art world in my 20’s , I began making pottery. Fine art is so gravely serious. Works of light and joy were, at the time, viewed as useless fluff, and perhaps they still are. I was drawn to the silent thoughtless world of clay where you can be moved to an almost holy place just by how beautiful something is.

Today I ran across this quote. It is from the novel, The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

“she knew that she had become a burden to him: she took things too seriously, turning everything into a tragedy, and failed to grasp the lightness and amusing insignificance of physical love. how she wished she could learn lightness!”

I suddenly wanted to see lightness everywhere, to go outside and capture with my camera the light shining through leaves. To feel that lightness of being is to be transparent, thin of  negativity and judgment, and allow the light of Creation to shine through.

I’m going to do this more often. it feels good.

Radiance

Today we drove up on the Blue Ridge parkway where the leaves are peaking. There was a reverent hush as people of all nationalities with many blending accents and languages gazed with drunken rapture at oranges so deep that you might warm your hands just to touch them, and reds so surreal that perhaps fairies and trolls partied last night and splattered magic paint around. I saw young city girls clutching bouquets of giant leaves, gathered like precious jewels. A tall man with his toddler son shuffled through piles, and the man's face was lost in his own boyhood, while the young one had eyes like an old man who understood everything. It was beyond amazing.

And I see how this beauty, fierce and urgent, informs my life. When I shut my eyes now, the colors are still there. And when I hold my husband tonight, just before sleep, we will float through crisp air, soaring, gold and red and orange, and filled with light.