an autumn sunday

sunday - today lived up to its billing as a sun day, the sky was cloudless. the wind blew every which way and tossed all the trees around. if it wasn't for the fact that i turned the heat on first thing this morning, i could have looked outside and easily imagined it was another lovely summer day. which amazingly it became as the day progressed. an unconditional gift from mother earth.

yep, it’s really autumn now . . . . . cold nights and relatively warm days and of course the leaves blowing bright orange and red and dotted yellow across the still bright green grass. autumn connects in many parts of the world with harvest. as a child i loved going into the church’s on my grandfather’s circuit at this time because the women's guild would place arrangements of vegetables and fruit and flowers and grain around the church, and there would be a quality of light and colour in the building that was distinct and connected as much to the earth as to heaven. for a boy unused to displays of food, the voluptuous and carefully arranged bouquets and cornucopias were amazing.

the harvest festival extends back to pre-christian times of course but has become more formalized such that nowadays, harvest festivals are traditionally held on or near the sunday of the harvest moon. this is the full moon that occurs closest to the autumn equinox (about sept. 23). in two years out of three, the harvest moon comes in september, but in some years it occurs in october.

in canada we eventually celebrate this as thanksgiving - an event that has been tied in to some degree to the american celebration. thanksgiving. i wonder how many people are actually thankful that we have this incredible bounty of food and beauty at our disposal?

linked into nature's bounty and the harvest time, here's a previously referred to moment from mary webb's book "precious bane".
"the roof came down to the floor all round and all the beams and rafters were oak and the floor went up and down like stormy water. the apples and pears had their places according to kind all round the room. there were codlins and golden pippins, brown russets and scarlet crabs, ciffits, nonpareils, and queenings big green bakers, pear-mains and red streaks. we had a mort of pears too, for in such an old garden, always in the family, every generation 'll put in a few trees. we had worcester pears and butter pears, jargonelle, bergamot, and good christian. just after the last gathering the attic used to be as bright as a church window, all reds and golds." (mary webb; "precious bane" available on virago modern classics)

william yeats’ poem the wild swans at coole . . . almost done to an early death at the hands of an earnest and dedicated english teacher while i was in high school, resurfaced for a more mature man’s appreciation this morning, and so i’ll share it here as a place for reflection.

the wild swans at coole

the trees are in their autumn beauty,
the woodland paths are dry,
under the october twilight the water
mirrors a still sky;
upon the brimming water among the stones
are nine and fifty swans.
the nineteenth autumn has come upon me
since I first made my count;
i saw, before I had well finished,
all suddenly mount
and scatter wheeling in great broken rings
upon their clamorous wings.
i have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
and now my heart is sore.
all’s changed since I, hearing at twilight,
the first time on this shore,
the bell-beat of their wings above my head,
trod with a lighter tread.
unwearied still, lover by lover,
they paddle in the cold,
companionable streams or climb the air;
their hearts have not grown old;
passion or conquest, wander where they will,
attend upon them still.
but now they drift on the still water
mysterious, beautiful;
among what rushes will they build,
by what lake’s edge or pool
delight men’s eyes, when I awake some day
to find they have flown away?

william butler yeats
here are images from the unfolding evening.