This, right here right now, is the nicest time of the year weather wise. The long grueling summers finally give way to cool breeze and purple skies, a welcome reprieve. Mornings and evenings witness to pinkish cold & people slumber induced. But it is not the cool weather or the purple skies that attract me to these months of pure bliss, it is the trees and the leaves.
There is something magical in the falling of golden leaves. A magic only nature can create. No artist, however proficient, can bring the vivid & vivacious colours of Autumn to his canvas, no writer, however gifted, can ever express the beauty and symbolism of falling leaves in well- strung words, no camera can capture the ethereal quality of nature’s bounty in its limited pixels. And I am not even that gifted with words, so I would leave the description of the sublimity of Autumn’s splendor to more practiced hands and sharper minds.
I would rather speak about the symbolism of Fall. As in nature, so it is in life. After the harshness of summer months and some tender care of the rainy season, comes a time when the leaves dry up and can no longer hold on to the life giving tentacles of their trees. Nothing changes, per se. The tree stands tall in all its majesty still rooted to its earth but for the leaf it is the end of time, end of a journey which started with it bursting into life, all young and eager.
As it grows, it has to endure the tests of time and nature. Come rain or thunderstorms, hail or high water, it stands its ground, fulfilling its life’s purpose, funneling vitality into the very tree that holds it. It is torn and drawn and weathered but it still holds on – Fights and wins. And finally when the time approaches, it dessicates shrinking to a wrinkly texture, proud and elegant, connoting a life, well-lived. Its grace does not end with it falling down. Once there, it enriches the soil, thus aiding in the springing up of new life, new leaves.
Such close resemblance to human life. The difference these days is that, people in the autumn of their lives try to pass on the wisdom of their years to often uncomprehending, unheeding, unapologetic youth who always always think that they, themselves, know better.
The human race is sadly missing out on the mysticism and sorcery, that the sagacity of the elderly, can bring about.
Unfortunately, the Autumn of their lives cannot stem the tide of falling values.