Missing Autumn

Where Are the Autumns of Yesteryear?

Autumn's Midas Tree Fall 2014

We’re well along in the second of my two favorite months — September…..   October….   But something’s very wrong.  Green is everywhere.  Unwelcome green!  June and July are well past – but their temperatures and their very colors are with us still.

Essence of Autumn

autumn pine cones and oak leaves Brig

Someone brought and enormous bucket of purple iris to D&R Greenway this week — iris is a spring herald, not fall’s.

Autumn Russo's White Pumpkins

Once I wrote a poem about stubborn autumn leaves:  “They have had their chance.  Now I want them down… since they would not play tapers to our waltz….”

Autumn Crispness Canal and Delaware River near Prallsville Mills

Autumn Frames Canal and Delaware River, Near Prallsville Mills

I don’t want them down in 2017.  I want those colors to flare and flame so that one thinks that level of scarlet and crimson and gold and even purple would put out the night sky itself.

Autumn's Wild Sky Montgomery

Whatever happened to autumn?

Autumnal Richesse of Mums

We know the answer, But we are mandated to call its cause a myth.

Where are the autumns of yesteryear?

 

Mellow fruitfulness” at Russo’s in Tabernacle in the Jersey Pine Barrens:

Autumn Russo's Pumpkins

 

Keats says it for all of us.  He dares counter to spring, telling my favorite season, this autumn manque,thou hast thy music 

To Autumn

John Keats, 17951821

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 
  Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless 
  With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, 
  And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; 
    To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells 
  With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees, 
Until they think warm days will never cease,
    For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? 
  Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, 
  Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep, 
  Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
    Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep 
  Steady thy laden head across a brook; 
  Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
    Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? 
  Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, 
  And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn 
  Among the river sallows, borne aloft
    Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; 
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; 
  Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
  The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, 
    And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.


Red Cranberry Vines at Chatsworth, New Jersey

Chatsworth Bog Red Vines

 

 

 

 

George Bernard Shaw — my “marching orders’ for this life

A natural autumn glow, at Prallsville Mills, on the D&R Canal – to remind us of George Bernard Shaw’s ‘brief candle’…

Autumn Canal near Prallsville Mills

Long ago, I read everything I could find, by and about Shaw.  Yes, his misogyny bothered me; and yet, and yet — I know no better life paradigm:

“I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the community, and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can.

I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live.

Life is no ‘brief candle’ to me. It ia a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for a moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to the future generations.”

George Bernard Shaw

…AND THE DAYS DWINDLE DOWN…

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Poison Ivy Turned for Fall, Sandy Hook

It’s rough when a season is so laggard that one is forced to turn to poison ivy for color.  Vines alter to let migrant birds know their fruits are ripe, ready to fuel those southern journeys.  Have YOU seen the scarlet or crimson of ivy or woodbine anywhere yet?

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Autumnal Lichen and Oak Leaves, Brigantine Wildlife Refuge Forest Floor

September used to mean fall, and there were songs to prove it.  But are there songs about October?  For that is the most difficult of the autumnal offerings for me — darker, ever darker, without the blessing of the snows…   Walking in woods becomes mysterious-to-hazardous, as sun plunges not only earlier and earlier, but more and more rapidly.

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Autumnal Glory, Prallsville Mills, Canal, –Normal Fall Color

 

Most Octobers, we have the most sublime compensation — colors like bonfires erupting in all deciduous trees, many vines, certain ‘weeds’, and even rare migrant birds arrowing overhead on their way south.

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Geese Migrating Past the Moon by BRENDA JONES, Fine Art Photographer

Not this fall.  Wherever I look, at home, at work, in the car, even when we drove four hours north to Connecticut recently, everything is the relentless, face it — boring, dark green of summer.

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Connecticut Proof of Autumn

Do I have any autumn scenes to remind me of how it ought to be?

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Canal Walk in Autumn, Delaware River near Prallsville Mills

Can looking at yesterday’s pictures make up for today’s monochrome palette?

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Brigantine Wildlife Pine and Oak Forest Still Life in Autumn

I’m never again going to take a colored leaf for granted — not EVEN brown!