Autumn and the fall of our lives

Autumn and the Fall of Our Lives
By Val Silver
Often, while riding my bike I travel a familiar country road. Since my ride last week, the difference in the air, the scenery, the feeling of the landscape was amazing. It is only mid-September, yet fall is arriving as surely as summer is ending. The days may be warm and sunny, but the nights are chilly enough to bring thoughts of flannel and socks.

Summer has not, after all, entirely gone. Amidst the encroaching brown of autumn, flowers bloom. The bright pink of the impatiens, once a cheery sight, now seem only to clash with the burnt orange of the mums and falling leaves. Many trees are still fully green, even as the red, orange and yellow of others appear.

We had a cool wet summer here in Northern New York and the grass grew green and lush. Yet as I ride along, I can’t help but notice how, even with the rains, lawns appears a bit browner. The goldenrod flowers are thick and fading. Cattails in the marsh are tipped with brown. Farmers bale up the last of a bumper crop of hay. The fields are cut and readied for their winter rest.

The farmers aren’t the only ones taking advantage of this summer-like Saturday. Neighbors are out mowing lawns, clipping trees, having conversation. No one comments on the fallen leaves that get mowed as well. A woman sits out with her yard sale goodies. Cottagers are preparing to close up for the season. There’s almost a feeling of urgency in air. Soon it will be too cold for all this outdoor work and visiting


But then, as often happens as I continue musing, my mind begins to follow it’s own trails. It asks, “How is the season of autumn like the fall of our lives?” At first I tried to answer seriously, but then my responses became more humorous.

Like the impatiens, we are more showy, exuberant and bold in our summer. As autumn approaches we mellow a bit, become more subdued like the mums. Or a fine wine.

The fading flowers? Well, that’s like what happens to my hair color. Not too many years ago it was a lovely dark brown. Sometimes it still is, thanks to Lady Clairol and faithful re-coloring.

Which leads to the next similarity. All those brown-tipped leaves? That is like the graying of our hair of course! Still plenty of natural color left, I think, but the gray is taking over. Unless you’re like my husband and the tree down the road. They lost their color a while ago!

And like the plants with weighed down stems, our skin begins to sag a bit. We lose that youthful, fresh appearance. Some of us may try to cover it all up with a bit too much make-up, making us look like the impatiens amongst the mums.

Now I don’t say all this to be depressing. Many people say that fall is their favorite time of year. The weather is lovely, and with less heat, we become more productive. The leaves are beautiful, the colors muted, earthy. Roads have less traffic. Life feels quieter, more peaceful. You can feel it in the air.

I think we are also like that. When I ask an older woman her favorite age, she usually answers without hesitation. Her fifties were the best. Our bodies aren’t what they used to be. Some of us try to fight this. We’ve been conditioned to believe that aging is a bad thing, that youth is to be venerated. But there’s a reason that many cultures respect and honor the most aged. That is because they possess what youth cannot. Wisdom.
(to be continued…)
(Google images)

ValSilver