Some of my favorite songs speak of the profound change of the seasons at this time of year. We leave “Summer winds make me feel fine, glowing like a jasmine in my mind,” and turn to Joni Mitchell’s lyrics, “The warriors of winter give a cold, triumphant shout, All that stays is dying, all that lives is getting out.” She also speaks of the trees, standing in a naked row, an image I enjoy.

In high school, my Glee Club sang, “The autumn leaves drift past my window, the autumn leaves of red and gold.” I am sure there are many other song tributes to autumn, a time period we all anticipate eagerly, here in New England, and a time that is too soon past. After Columbus Day, when the tourists have left the state, we can begin to anticipate heavy rains and winds that knock off any remaining leaves, and signal a change to cold nights in which the heat must be turned on.

The palette of verdant green of leaves and trees, and pastels of flowers, quickly turns to browns of decaying leaves underfoot in the forest, and then to the familiar gray and white and black colors of winter. The snow is like a white-out, at times. And, when it ends, there is a lovely peacefulness that seems to descend as from heaven itself.

A view of winter – photo by James Cummings

No wonder we eagerly await seed catalogs in January, a time that seems to be in the dead of winter and very far removed from outdoor blooming plants. “The farmer puts another “promise” in the ground,” are the words to another folk song.

At Christmas time, the holly and the ivy (also the name of a song) remind us of everlasting life, symbolically-speaking. These holly and its red berries retain their color throughout the winter months. Green represents eternity and Red can symbolize the loss of Christ’s blood on the cross. Colors can be so symbolic!

Autumn. So many changes are taking place. Animals that hibernate are searching out resting areas for the long winter. Bears will give birth in their dens, barely aware of what is happening. The “winter birds” such as the (gray) juncos and chickadees, will be heard and seen again, as will the woodpeckers who will make frequent trips to the suet hung again for them, from a lilac bush.

I have no quarrel with autumn or winter: they are seasons of introspection, a time to take stalk of one’s soul and one’s roots and to sort out again what is important in life. As a Christian, I have come to despise the commercialism and therefore, cheapening of a religious holiday, and so I dwell on my religious training as a child, and find those teachings more and more of a comfort in trying to make sense of an insane world. On Christmas, I tend to like to read Christmas stories and listen to music. With my family “gone,” taken away by death or indifference, my day is often spent in solitude, or with Jim, on holidays.

“I’ll stoke the fire with kindlin’, pull the blankets to my chin, I’ll keep the vagrant winter out and bolt my wanderings in.” – Joni Mitchell

Autumn and Winter – bring them on. I’ll be here, quilting, reading, writing, and loving my dear husband, who is as precious as a found jewel. Rejoice! The seasons are yet again changing, and life moves onward to its invisible, unforeseen, and inevitable conclusion.

Patricia Cummings
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