I was drawn to the colouration of this leaf, interestingly so similar to some of the flowers that I captured in the Summertime. And yet, the flower and the leaf are from vastly different kinds of plants. And their colours are for really different purposes.
The Summer flower, beautifully yellow and orange and red, draws the attention of honey bees and insects that help pollinate. The leaf is this colour as it is letting go of what it once was; as it lets go of its capacity to photo synthesize. And the tree from which it comes shifts into winter mode, a time of waiting, of dormancy .... ....
I feel like this carries perhaps a message that I can take away about.... about what is beautiful and why ....
We often in our culture in particular, privilege youth as beauty — that time of Summer which is filled with passion and adventure and sunshine. And yet for myself, and so many people I know, if asked to name my favourite season I will often name Autumn. Most often. As much as I value and love each season as it comes, if I'm asked to choose I will say Autumn. Because there’s something about this time of year that draws me to attention or.... that just feels like new beginning in a way that Spring oddly doesn't even though Spring is the new beginning. But Autumn is the time when we prepare for darkness, for that season of emptiness, the bare branches.
Often in Autumn the sky continues to be brilliantly blue. But the days are cold and there’s frost on the lawn in the morning. And night comes early. When I am out walking in the Autumn .... I appreciate the colder air, I appreciate the Big Sky and the Sun in a different way.
And I see those trees that have, as they do every year, simply let go of the thing that they were. And that leaf which has fluttered to the ground, simply is. Simply is held in that beautiful moment of dying to itself in order to continue the cycle of life that will surely emerge when Springtime comes again.
For now it calls us to pay attention to this moment. And to prepare for Winter.... prepare for the deeper darkness, the deeper silence, and the place where the stories of our Grandmothers and Grandfathers are held. And to listen, listen, listen .... ....
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musings of someone spiritual and oddly religious
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