Autumn Thoughts

October 2007

It is autumn in the Northern hemisphere. For most of my life, it has been my favourite season.

These are the days of lengthening shadows, of shorter days and frosty mornings. The trees put on a display of riotous colour, their leafy forms, all golden-red, contrasting boldly with skies awash in clear, crisp blue. Underfoot, those leaves that have given their final show, lay scattered across my path. And each day the branches, the skeletons of the deciduous trees, reveal more and more of their unique and rarefied beauty, no longer hidden, no longer masked by foliage.

As my novel, Gabriella, is introduced to this world, I am grateful to have autumn as my companion. It is helping to remind me, in a profound and shockingly beautiful manner, that I, too, have cycles and seasons, that each moment of my life has given way to the next, that what has looked like death, has actually, been birth.

To quote Edwin Way Teale:
Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is, is change.