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.
