I’m fairly certain that autumn was designed so that the Pacific North West could show off it’s beauty. Striking as Vancouver is all year round, in autumn it is something else again. The whole city has burst into fiery reds and oranges set agains perfect blue skies. Here, I think it is my favourite time of year. Days are getting shorter, but there is something cosy about being inside when it’s dark out, especially after a day in the sun. And it’s never too hot for tea which is a definite perk.
But what strikes me most at the moment is the light. The sun is lower in the sky which means that it seems to shimmer through trees at all times of day. Striking anything in it’s path with glowing light at angles that create intriguing, long shadows, and the light in the morning makes you forgive the shorter days for having you up before dawn as you watch the sky change colours whilst eating porridge and drinking tea.
I will leave my final words to Barbara Kingsolver who describes autumn perfectly in a letter from Harrison Shepherd to Frieda Kahlo in her book ‘The Lacuna’.
“A glittering shower falls at a slant across my window. Some form of god has come to visit our dark autumnal tunnel, like Zeus himself a beam of light to impregnate Danae. In this case, it is not really glittering light but beech leaves. You’ve never seen anything as dramatic as these American trees, dying their thousand deaths. The giant beech next door intends to shover off every hear of its pelt. The world strops and goes naked, the full year of arboreal effort piling on the sidewalks in flat, damp strata. The earth smells of smoke and rainstorms, calling everything to come back, lie down, submit to a quiet, mouldy return to the cradle of origins.”