Autumn Leaves

For as long as I can remember, I've hated fall.

Now "hate" is a word I don't use often, but I think applies here.

I grew up on an estuary of the Chesapeake Bay, and summer meant a seemingly endless number of ways to enjoy the water. And fall meant an end to all that. And it meant being cold in the mornings when we woke up (the heating system in our house was none too effective...). And it promised shorter and shorter days and less time outside playing.

And then there was school, which I don't recall enjoying much at all.

As I got older, fall was the harbinger of snow, ice and all the inconveniences they caused. And even colder mornings. And even higher energy bills.

And the leaves turning color only seemed to be mocking me -- reminding me of the months of cold, dark weather ahead and the subtly increasing levels of cabin fever within me and my four siblings. In a house that seemed to get smaller with each passing day.

As the years went by and I moved away from Baltimore, the discomforts of colder weather were less of an issue, but I held onto my distaste for autumn. As in, "Oh hell, here comes winter. Again." This was an automatic response, and I never had a compelling reason to change it or even examine it. It was just "Oh hell" again and again.

People around me have, it seems, always appreciated the leaves turning color, and have expressed their joy at seeing such a marvel. And I have, it seems, always felt that these people were delusional as they tried to avoid the True Message of Fall. As Joni Mitchell once sang: "All that stays is dying, all that's living's getting out."

But this year has been notably different. For the first time in more decades than I care to think about, I have come to appreciate the fall foliage for what it is -- rather than treating it as a sign of things to come. The term that keeps reoccurring to me is "Symphony of Color" -- where each participant produces his/her/its share to the overall effect; blending and contrasting in turns. Now being soft and subtle, and now being brash and sassy.

And it occurred to me this year that the Symphony changes from day to day -- that each tree and bush and vine moves through an entire series of color changes so that the Symphony is never the same. Never.

Two months from now, the weather is likely to be cold and dark and dismal. But that is no reason and no excuse for me to be cold and dark and dismal. I see now that I have unconsciously made a choice for a long time to reject even the possibility of enjoying the fall and winter seasons. I see now that the trees and bushes and vines are not dying at all. They are simply adjusting.

I've discovered that the trees in our neighborhood (and likely, therefore, the trees around the world) put out their buds for next year's leaves in the fall. They are right there on the branches beside this year's leaves that are turning such beautiful colors.

And I ask myself "Why would they do that? Exposing next year's chance for survival to the awful weather ahead? Why not wait for the springtime to put the buds out?"

And I don't know why they do that. But I am taking this behavior as a sign to me personally: "Have faith and hold on tight. Summer is not really that far away."

And so it is.