The air felt crispy. The sun was shining. The leaves rustled on the ground as we walked along the Spencer Creek Trail in Dundas, Ontario. In fact we left so early that we saw a sheen of frost still on the ground when we walked up Grove Cemetery. The place was particularly quiet this morning, except for the sound of our breathing as we walked up the hill. The sun was coming through the branches while the leaves fell onto the ground. Capture the moment: Peace and Serenity.
From the Cemetery, we went through Dundas Driving Park, and we walked among residential neighbourhood. Fall colors greeted us everywhere. We are so blessed in this part of Canada because the colors of our leaves are a mosaic of shades from golden yellow to fiery red. Isn’t this too “Pied Beauty”?
Glory be to God for dappled things– /For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow/For rose moles all it stipple upon trout that swim /Fresh firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings; /Landscape plotted and pieced-fold, fallow, and plough; /And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange; /Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) /With swift slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; /His fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: /Praise him.
(Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1985)
I never get tired of Fall. I become excited every time when I spot the first leaf turning red at the beginning of the season. Every week on my walks, the colors of the leaves greet me with a new scene, arousing in me a sense of anticipation and gratitude. How I wish I could hang on to Fall! In a couple of weeks, the branches will be bare. Fall will usher in Winter. Gerard Manly Hopkins’s “Spring and Fall–To a Young Child” comes to mind again.
Margaret, are you grieving /Over Goldengrove unleaving? /Leaves, like the things of man, you /With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? /Ah! as the heart grows older /It will come to such sights colder /By and by, nor spare a sign /Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; /And yet you will weep and know why. /Now no matter, child, the name; /Sorrow’s springs are the same. /Nor mouth had,, no nor mind, expressed /What heart heard of, ghost guessed: /It is the blight man was born for, /It is Margaret you mourn for.
(Gerard Manly Hopkins, 1988.)
The saying “there is a time for everything” rings true. But for now, let me enjoy Fall while it lasts.