Autumn is not an easy time to be living with
solar energy. We're lucky to see the sun once a week. The
shorter days mean greater demand for lights at night. Too bad
we couldn't save all that extra energy we had all summer
long.
Sometimes I feel as though I am solar powered
as well. These long, grey, rainy days, it's hard to move very
fast.
And the cold! Did I mention the cold? Who is
ever ready for the north wind and frosty mornings?
The transition from summer to winter comes
much more slowly, with a much greater effort than we need to
apply for winter to spring.
I could go on for the rest of this page
griping and moaning about the cold, dark days and nights
ahead.
But I won't. Complaining about it won't help.
Hiding inside for the next five months is not an option. All I
really need to do is to get out the ladder, and bring the
warmer clothes out of storage. There's no such thing a bad
weather, you know. Only bad clothing.
So, bundled up in layers of fleece with
raincoat, toque and mitts, Kate takes me out for a walk in the
woods. The air is newly cleaned by the rain. I breathe in the
pure, wonderful cool air of autumn.
We walk along the trail under the poplars.
Three weeks ago the forest floor was carpeted with a brilliant
layer of glowing yellow leaves. Now all the colour is gone.
Well, not really gone, but changed . The forest floor is now
brown. Not a uniform brown, but brown in at least a dozen
shades ranging from dull yellow to nearly black.
The leaves aren't crispy anymore; they don't
blow into the air with each gust of wind. They lay quietly,
softly, damply underfoot. Now and then we see where the leaves
have been rustled, where some little autumn bird has shuffled
through looking for something to eat that might be hiding in
the leaf litter. Sometimes we can find a ripple crossing the
trail where a mole has tunneled across, keeping safe under
cover of the fallen leaves.
On a damp, drizzly day every little branch
and twig that used to hold leaves now holds hundreds of jeweled
beads of water. I look closely at one, and see a reflection of
the world. Even though the sky seems dark and gloomy, each
little globe of water dangling from the branches is full of
light. Like diamonds, the water drops bejewel the forest.
We still find a few mushrooms rising above
the leaves. Their caps are the same yellowy-brown colour of the
leaves, yet they stand out just enough from the background to
be noticed. Some of them are good to eat, so we bring them
home. Others remain unknown to me, so we leave them
behind.
I like to have at least an hour out in the
forest every day. It is the one sure way I have to defeat the
gloom of shortening days,
