Eight o’clock in September and it is dark. It is really quite strange when that transition from summer to autumn makes itself felt so pointedly. It begins with an almost unseen change in the quality of the green leaves as they edge towards turning, then it is almost as if there is a change overnight and you wake to a summer that has flown as the birds are ready to fly, seeking warmer climes. Berries are heavy on the trees and in the hedgerows, and the first roseate blush edges the leaves damp with mist. A few more days will see autumn unveil her palette of russet and gold, but for now we hover between the seasons.
It has that same breathless quality that attends every transition; like the teenager poised between the child they have been and the adult they will become. Neither the rules by which the child has been bound nor those to which the adult will subscribe, through choice or necessity, yet hold sway, though both seem to call. Or the time when the last years of youth give way to a more mature wisdom, yet folly can pull you either way or both. So it is with this time of year, where the warmth of summer or the golden mists of autumn may attend each dawn.
Yet each season is held with the one that gives it birth. Each autumnal morning remembers in gilded softness the summer glow as the seeds and berries echo the flowers that brought them into being. As the green fades to gold, the crisp fallen leaves foreshadow the stark, skeletal silhouettes of winter, and every soft dewfall prefigures the frosts of winter; while in the winter womb of earth spring is born in silence, preparing the crescendo of summer. There are no clear demarcations, just a growing awareness. Summer may be long or short, autumn come in quickly or creep in softly, almost unnoticed. We do not know, cannot tell by rule or date, only by observing the natural flow of life.
And so it goes, the wheel of the year turning, cycling through the seasons. With every year we move from our own spring to our own winter, and we too are left with only the current of our lives and hearts to guide us. There are no dates for our personal transitions… we cross those unseen boundaries each in our own time; the rites of passage are different for every one of us, and while some hold to the familiar past, others stand poised on the brink with their wings outstretched ready to fly.
Yet we are odd creatures. Small children are simply themselves. Teenagers long to be seen as adults, adults wish they were still children while the the old look back and smile… when the weather plays those games we all complain and call it unseasonable. It is not behaving as expected for the time of year. Yet we seek those changes instead of accepting the flow of life that moves us when it is ready into the next stretch of the stream.
The wheel of the year is a great teacher. There can be warm, sunny days in winter and cold, rainy summers. What we expect, what is ‘usual’, does not always happen… but it is natural. We do not control the weather or the forces of nature that shape it, any more than we can control all the events which act upon our lives. A childhood may be less than carefree, full of tears; maturity a time of playful laughter and a childlike lightness… our own lives have that capacity to surprise us and to change in unexpected ways. We can only be ready to listen to the moment and accept what it offers.
We tend to think these days of four seasons… not unlike the four ages of man; childhood, youth, middle and old age…but we have not always counted them thus. The oldest calendars are based on a view, older still, that the year was simply divided into light and dark. Other calendars name up to eight seasons, marking the transitions that are the turning points, by watching the world and seeing how life grows and moves. Perhaps there is a simpler way of looking at it. We could simply say that the year needs no seasonal full stop and capital letter to mark the transitions, for the whole process is simply one thing… growth. Even in the darkest days the seeds of spring are burgeoning unseen in the dark earth. Even in apparent death life is being brought to birth. It doesn’t matter to the Earth what the weather does… it matters only to we who walk upon it and look to it for sustenance and shelter. Perhaps that too is analogous with our own lives; the daily storms, bouts of sunshine or dark, gloomy days may be unpleasant to live through, may damage the crops we had planted and hoped one day to reap or the edifices of the personality in which we live, yet perhaps to the fertile earth of the soul, this is simply nature at work, shaping and preparing us for a growth that is as inevitable and as beautiful as spring.
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Such beautiful pics…
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Thanks, Ashwini 🙂
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Autumn is late, but summer was late too — and spring didn’t happen at all. The seasons are disrupted, but not for the first or last times. If getting older has taught me nothing else, it is to trust that change will come. Later.
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Having just driven a large distance north and south, it is odd to see the shifting seasons on the road… a few miles or a few days makes such a difference.
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I do always love the stories you tell through and around your photos, Sue. Being a born-and-raided New Englander, I really can’t imagine living somewhere that didn’t have distinct seasons. Each has its unique beauty. And I just can’t imagine the holidays on a sandy beach. There has to be a chill in the air and at least the possibility of snow on Christmas Eve!
I’ve been to nearly every state in the US, and many places around the world, and while there are many wonders to behold, I think I’ll always return to New England — or at least someplace like it.
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I missed snow in winter where I lived in France and we rarely get it here in the south of England either…and I do love a good snowfall.
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Tangential question here, Sue, but is there any place in the world you haven’t yet been but that you often think you’d love to visit?
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Most of it, Erik! I have not seen even a fraction of the world. Egypt was always the dream…ever since childhood… But with so much to see and learn on my own doorstep, I’ll be happy with time to explore my own land.
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The photographs you share here on the regular are the postcards that are most people’s dream getaways. We each have beauty in our own backyard, if we’re willing to see it.
That said … Egypt sure would be an excellent adventure!
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My photographs are all taken here in Britain… with such beauty, why would I need to go elsewhere to seek it 🙂
But Egypt…. that’s diffent 😉
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I can’t believe how quickly it has changed this year. The mornings are just so dark!
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But at least we get to see the dawn 🙂
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True!
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Where are you located in the world, Ritu?
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In the UK
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I feel a bit cheated this year did we have a summer? Luckily I love the autumn so it’s okay, just not keen on winter!
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I think I prefer autumn to summer… as long as it doesn’t rain too much 🙂
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Yes there is much to be said for autumn and Halloween is always fun!
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I just love the colours and the scent of this time of year 🙂
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Reblogged this on anita dawes and jaye marie.
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Thanks, Jaye 🙂
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Reblogged this on Sun in Gemini.
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Thanks, Steve x
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Is it my imagination, or are these changes happening far more quickly now? As I grow older, I want things to slow down, not speed up…
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Downhill goes faster 😉 But the years do seem far too short…
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and getting shorter!
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Jaye and Sue, you know I don’t typically leave links to my own posts here; but I just had to share one that is apropos here, regarding why time seems to go faster as we get older. I’m 48 years old — no spring chicken — and I do feel I’ve managed to figure this point out and to change my thinking in a way that causes the clock to be moving at normal speed again.
post: i am here
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I remember that post, Erik… and agree with so much of what you wrote.
While the years do seem to slip by quicker these days, the moments have expanded. I can see and experience more in a day than seems physically possible and those weekend workshops I write about can take weeks to share.
Being fully present makes all the difference.
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Compared to me, you are a spring chicken. Wait another 20+ years and see what time does then!
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I’m somewhere between the two…
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Beautiful writing Sue, reading this it all makes sense how you put it 😊
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Thank you, James.
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Life is very much like the seasons, Sue, it is not something I have thought about before, but your post has certainly made me think!
I have always thought that each season has something to offer , and in life it is the same too. Each stage of life beings with it its own benefits, as we gain experience and knowledge.
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Yes, Judy… constantly changing, cycling… and always growing 🙂
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Lovely post, Sue, and the pictures are stunning. The sight of the first lambs in the fields always gives me a feeling of joy because I’ve got through another winter and have spring and summer ahead.
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The first lamb…the first rose… the first falling leaf and frost… they are all exciting 🙂
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How beautiful, Sue. I need reminders like this, since as much as September is lovely here in New England, I dislike the reminder that winter is not far around the corner. But I must learn to accept winter, since it brings renewal in spring and summer. Yes, we learn through the wheel of the seasons. Gorgeous photos also!
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Thank you. It is too easy to focus on the negatives… like the cold, wind and rain of winter… forgetting that they hold the seeds of what is yet to come 🙂
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You don’t know how much I need to remember this. Remind me in January, will you? 🙂
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I’ll do my best 🙂
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Absolutely beautiful piece. You can weave words with images so well. 🙂 I find that I pay more attention to the changing of the seasons now as I get older, each one with its own opportunities.
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That is how I see them… each with their own beauty and possibilities 🙂
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We’re heading into summer here in the Souther hemisphere – it all changes rather swiftly. Your writing on the seasons is lovely Sue, thank you ..
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Thank you, Susan. We tend to forget that it is always summer somewhere…just as it is always dawn somewhere when ‘our’ sun sets.
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Each season holds on to the season that gave birth to it…remembers what brought it into being. Beautiful words, Sue. Each season carries a bit of the season before. The wheel of the year is a teacher for sure. Happy Autumnal Equinox, my friend. 🍂🍁🍂
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All the blessings of the Equinox to you also, Sarah.
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Magical Sue!
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Thank you, Paul.
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A stunning analogy of life and the changing seasons. Thank you, Sue. This was both wonderful and elegantly written.
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Thank you, Jennie. Nature is usually our best teacher 🙂
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It certainly is. Best to you, Sue.
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🙂
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A beautiful reflection of our relationship with the seasons, Sue. Here, summer lingers, and that’s too bad for me, for Autumn is my absolute favorite. But as you say, we have no control. There has been so much evidence of that fact this year. Lovely piece.
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Sadly, Van, the elements have shown us just how little control we have this year… tragedy for so very many.
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Summer ended so abruptly here. 30+ degree heat one day, mid-teens and rain the next and there’s snow forecast in the high passes. We haven’t had a slow transition from season to season for a few years now. Sign of the times, I suspect. 🙂
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There was snow in the Scottish hills while we were there… but mostly rain. And sun. The seasons have their own agenda.
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I want the heat to end but not what is to come in the winter months. I don’t mind the cold, just leave out the snow!
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I don’t even mind the snow…as long as I don’t have to drive far in it! We are not good with snow in the UK 🙂
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I’m not good in the snow and I’m from the snow belt, lol.
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But an inch or two is too much here 🙂
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