Tag Archives: Change

Autumn

04 Sunday Sep 2016

Posted by in Autumn, Change, History, Seasons

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This morning the radio announcer notes that it is September 1, autumn is around the corner, and invites us to stay tuned in all seasons. Yesterday I stood on a friend’s balcony during a cool rain shower, looked at trees just beginning to take on fall color, and thought about the coming season. It is late summer. In the evening the cicadas make a persistent trill from the trees, and darkness closes in a bit earlier every night.

Much of the earliest religious practice humans indulged in was aimed at ensuring seasonal change. Demeter and her daughter Kore—transformed into Persephone, the ‘bringer of death,’ after her underworld episode—are as ancient as any deity we know. Even before there was a Zeus, there was a Demeter, and it seems obvious that to early humans, tracking the orderly flow of the seasons was more important than any Olympian hierarchy.

Dumuzi, Adonis, Attis and many other ancient gods and demigods died and were resurrected in spring or summer rituals, making sure that one season of abundance would follow on another, that the gods would never leave us to starve in a world without sun, without life-giving water, without warmth—what the Norse would come to think of as Fimbulwinter, three years of unbroken severe winter that would precede Ragnarök, the end of the world. In time, humans have learned one important lesson: the seasons are going to change, one following on another, and you can’t stop them.

Most people who have lived where there are four defined seasons do not want to live where there are not. They may long to get away to Florida for a while in the depth of winter, but not to live there all year round. We don’t necessarily like the extremes, even if we do like the four seasons. And what we love most of all are the transitions.

Some climatologists and meteorologists don’t recognize spring and autumn, speaking only of winter and summer, with the other seasons being just transitions between them. And as I’ve noted before in this blog, when you ask people to name a favorite season, spring and autumn are the most popular, with autumn edging out spring in the contest, and summer and winter running far behind. When pressed for further definition most people will tell you something about the wonderful feeling of the first cool days after a long summer, or the first warm days after the cold of winter. It is the change we like, the transition from one thing to another.

We are restless beings. How else did small bands of early hunter-gatherers come to populate the entire globe? We are hungry for change. Summer may be nice, with its pools and barbecues, outdoor concerts and Shakespeare in the Park, pretty girls in sandals and sundresses, but after a while the heat is too much, we’re weary of living in air conditioning, we’ve harvested all the tomatoes and peppers we can eat, stew, can or foist on neighbors, and it’s time for a change.

Human societies worldwide have cherished the autumn for a long, long time. Of course there is its aspect as representing an end of life. In the old symbolic systems in Chinese painting, autumn scenes, especially birds flying away over bare trees, evoke death.

Maybe it’s our desire to fight this that there are more celebrations, traditions, and events in autumn than any other season. While the two major winter events, Christmas and New Year’s Eve, may eclipse any autumn festival for size or glamour, they pale against the sheer number of autumn’s special days. The beginning of school, of sports seasons, hunting seasons, theater seasons, symphony seasons, homecoming games, harvest festivals, Halloween, Thanksgiving, the list goes on and on, to the point that it’s surprising how much we get up to in the autumn—all against a backdrop of glorious, multicolored trees.

So bring on the autumn. Let’s dust off the football, carve the pumpkin, dig out Mom’s old recipe for cranberry relish, get our sweaters and coats dry-cleaned, plan our annual autumn color tour, check our seasons tickets for this, that, and the other. There may not be any ancient rituals aimed at bringing on the autumn, but in modern times, few seasons surpass it for traditional observances.

The Winds of Change

18 Monday Jun 2012

Posted by in Autumn, Change, climate, Fall, Mark Twain, Meteorology, Seasons, Spring, Summer, Weather, Wind, Winter

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Perhaps I shouldn’t listen to music while I run. But here’s the thing: I work in a library, and then at home I spend an hour or two quietly writing. I don’t get a lot of time for listening to music, and I really like music, so poking the earbuds in and turning up the tunes is a great way to relax and clear my head while I’m laboring up the road. But because of work and writing, I also don’t get to spend a lot of time outdoors, experiencing nature and the elements, which is at least ironic for someone writing about the seasons and how they affect us.

On Saturday morning, a sunny, warm morning with the humidity just beginning to climb, I was about a mile up Telegraph Road when through the music playing in my head I heard a strange noise. I paused and took the earbuds out. Just to my left stood a thick copse of small trees, through which a brisk wind was rustling. The leaves danced and the trees bowed slightly, and I stood and watched for a moment. Of course the breeze had been blowing all along, but I scarcely noticed until the rustling in the trees made it apparent. After a few minutes I ran on, feeling strangely enriched.

Almost everyone, when asked, can name a favorite season. For most people, it is either spring or autumn, and when pressed to explain, you will learn that it is usually the transition into that season that they most cherish: the first warm days of spring, the first chilly days of autumn, when the heat of summer finally begins to abate. It is change we appreciate. I think that it feels like anything is possible in a time of change.

Yes, there are people (you meet them at work, usually) who will tell you they hate change. New processes, new rules, new procedures. But this is something different. A change in your surroundings, in the environment. Let’s get out the sweaters, let’s cook a pot of soup, let’s plan a vacation. The weather is changing.

There is a quote I use in the introduction to The Varied God. It comes, as many quotes do, from Mark Twain. In comparing the climate of New England to that of California, he writes that ‘no land without four clearly defined seasons can be really beautiful.’ It’s a long quote, and I won’t give it all here, but he concludes that ‘change is the handmaiden nature requires to do her miracles with.’ Mark Twain was from Missouri, and so am I, so I know what he means. But there are millions of people from other areas where there are four seasons who will sympathize. There are also millions of people living in such areas who cannot wait to retire to Florida or Nevada to escape the inevitability of winter weather. I often wonder if these are the same people who hate change at work.

There is something about a wind that has always symbolized change. The phrase ‘winds of change’ is an oft-used cliche. There are winds of change songs and essays and book titles: people cite the winds of change sweeping the land in speeches both fiery and profound. The fact is, a wind usually does indicate some kind of change. Winds are the leading edge of high or low pressure patterns that are bringing some kind of change, warmer weather, hotter weather, rain or snow. Winds do change things–that’s what makes the cliche so compelling, so that no matter how often someone refers to the winds of change, we all know what they mean.

On the Saturday morning I am talking about, the wind was bringing a warm front and a hot, muggy weekend. Nothing much to like there, even if the moment of listening to the wind in the trees was mesmerizing. I almost missed it, listening to music while I ran, and I wonder if I should leave the earbuds at home from now on. Sometimes reliving one short moment, such as standing by the roadside and listening to the wind in the trees, can make whatever follows more bearable. We all need more moments like that.