The Colours of Autumn

An Ode to the Seasons

Time is such a strange and infinitely precious thing. How do you really measure it? By the hands of a clock? The pages of a calendar? The amount of grey hairs on your head and wrinkles on your face? It passes, no matter what you do, and no one knows how much of it they have left. Our job is to try to make the most of the time that we have.

One of the ways I feel time passing is by the seasons. Living in a place where there are four seasons, I find that each season has its own magical wonders. But sometimes my head would get so distracted, that a season would have come and gone without me really noticing it. So one day I decided to make a conscious choice to make the most out of each season, by doing the things that one can only really do in that moment in time, fully present.

The Colours of Autumn

The poignant thing about this season is that it is much longer than it seems. The prime moment to enjoy the colours of a world that is preparing to let go and move inward, is only usually about two weeks and it only takes one big surprise storm or frost to make it all suddenly disappear. The days of a soft, warm autumn sun on your face are few and before you know it it’s been weeks since you’ve felt that kind of warmth.

All the more reason to seize this moment in time which is so tantalising to the senses (the colours and textures, the crispiness, the wet rain, the fresh air and the soft sun). For as long as possible I try to take walks in the autumn light. I enjoy enveloping myself in soft, fluffy cardigans in the rich fall colour palette. I welcome the rain as a soundtrack to my moments of reflection and relaxation, and take it as a moment to change gears from the thrill of summer and refocus.

I think Autumn is my favourite season right now. The deep joy that fills me when I see a bright yellow Ginkgo tree, sprinkling its leaves like golden confetti on the pavement in the grey city. The crunch of the big plane leaves under my boots, that for some reason make me giddy and want to step on them all, like a child with a piece of bubble wrap. And the impossibly dark and rainy days where the skies are a deep, threatening shade of ominous. Days that are made to curl up with a cup of Chai Latte and good book, below my attic window where I get the best acoustics to enjoy this soothing concert of the skies.

It’s the season for Khaki fruits - which I associate with my paternal grandfather, who had many khaki trees in his garden. Delicious and nutritious, but not only that, it has a sun in it if you slice it from its bottom.