Whenever the seasons change, I’m filled with nostalgia. Half-formed memories tug at my brain, promising to return a forgotten moment from childhood or, more often, to steep me in the sense of infinite possibility, which lit up like fireflies inside me in my younger days (and, sometimes, still does).
Today, the fall sunlight carried me back to my grandfather’s home. I lost both of my grandfathers when I was ten, so this must have been in the years before that time. Garden plants grew gangly around me, with leaves edged in brown. Bits of sawdust filtered through the air, glinting bright in the fading sun, which left the last of its warmth on my skin. I remember noticing it all, trying to hold every facet of those moments in my little-girl heart.
Image via Unsplash/Kristopher Roller
There was a later time, too, when I was doing the same thing–trying to grasp a feeling, knowing it was fleeting even as I tried to grab hold. I was in my favorite park on my favorite hillside, sitting by myself on a blanket. I was surrounded by trees and, beyond them, was a garden I loved–a formal garden that had learned to run wild. I wish I could go back there, just for a while, to spend the afternoon writing and painting like I used to do in college, when everything was possible. Then, I believed I could claim every part of myself and my story. Today, I still feel like I might have a chance.
Image via pixabay/labenord
I’m not one to adhere to the beliefs or practices of any one religion, but this time of year, I want to get my pagan on so I can celebrate the harvest. I want to dance in the orange light of a bonfire, beneath a silver moon. If wolves howled from the darkness around me, I’d be more than tempted to join their ranks.
Image via pixabay/mikaelelmgren
Still reading? Okay, so not everyone is affected by fall in the same way I am, but to be fair, fall is a strange time even for me. It’s a yin yang of emotions. Nostalgia and déjà vu are playing tug-of-war with my senses. I feel equal parts sadness for what has passed and can never be again, mixed with the hopes and promises, which fall dances before us–lightly, evasively, like a breeze that waltzes with brittle leaves, only to drop them at our feet on its path to someplace else.
I know I’m not the only one feeling this mystical energy. Let’s face it, fall is utterly witchy.
Image via pixabay/ebpilgim
Historically, this time of year meant we should pull in our harvest, gather close the abundance of a summer’s worth of labors. As autumn days shorten, life begins to slow, and a warm, firelit hearth calls to us, as it must have done to our primitive ancestors. We’re preparing for the quiet of winter. I’m not a big fan of winter, but I’ll hunker down and do my best to hibernate my way through its long, gray days.
For now, though, I’ll drink in the crisp, yellow sunrises and smoky, amber sunsets. I’ll go for long woodland hikes on warm afternoons, and wait for the sunlight to come in at that “certain slant” through the trees, casting everything in a golden glow. Fall may be a time for reaping and slowing down, but to me, it’s also a season of perfect possibility.
Image via pixabay/tookapic
Please tell me fall casts a spell over you, too. Happy Autumn!