The Colours of Autumn

Oranges, russets, yellows and browns. The countryside is still resplendent in autumn glory, though some trees have discarded the last of their leaves and stand denuded in the frosty cold. 

Walking through the woods today with Mhairi who lives in LA. She commented on how although Southern California is beautiful, it lacks the variation of weather and vibrancy of seasonal colours which she finds stunning. The carpet of orange bracken nearly obscured the path we were on as we tramped together round Scolty.

The colours of autumn: colours which are harbingers of hibernation. Hibernation – perhaps that’s a better word than ‘death’. Perhaps, as Christians, it would be a more accurate word to describe that state of life when we finally cease to draw breath. When we migrate to ‘the other side’: we ‘pass away’, ‘pass on’, or nowadays, simply ‘pass’. 

Pass is a weird word for it I think, as it implies an exam to me. Pass or fail. It seems when it comes to escaping this mortal coil, we all pass. 

Maybe migration would be a good word, now that I think about it. Mhairi and I were discussing how geese migrate in a v-formation, and the lead goose is alternated as they go. Is that so one goose doesn’t get all the glory? Or so he/she doesn’t get worn out? Or if one isn’t so great at navigation, the next leader might be able to correct the errors before the whole flock goes seriously astray? 

I don’t know. But I do know that there are some people in my life who have showed me how to migrate out of it. Who have demonstrated courage and dignity as they endured the final days and who slipped through the curtain without complaint. My sister Judy. My dad. 

Oranges, russets, yellows and browns. The colours of autumn. Harbingers of hibernation.

Seasons all have their beauties. Even old age.