The oft repeated phrase, “fall back/spring ahead,” denotes the contrast between the approach of dark, shortened days to the advance of bright, lengthened ones. While the above might be an accurate description, according to the physical lengths of day versus night, it ignores mood and aesthetics. As I sat in a favorite café and took pleasure in a delicious cappuccino, I observed cheerful pumpkins on the walls that kept company alongside advertisements for flavored coffees. I observed the convivial arrangement of tables conducive to shared conversations. October sweater weather was in full force on another weekday morning. As I sat by a window that faced the main street in a small town in middle Tennessee, store fronts with their festive memorabilia, framed the lively traffic. Another autumn day was in progress.
Nineteenth century British poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, celebrated the capricious and predictable elements of nature. In his poem, “Pied Beauty,” he finalizes his thoughts with this stunning line: “He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise him.” Hopkins was also a priest, a man acutely aware of the magnificence of God’s creation. The Jesuit lived a short life (1844 – 1889). Nevertheless, he shared a great deal through his power of observation that revealed a profound awareness of the world around him. This sensitivity is evident in another poem, “Spring and Fall”. The poet asks young Margaret if she is “grieving over Goldengrove unleaving …”. The poet was experiencing a sense of loss as one season of life moved into the next. The 19th century optimist and prolific poet Robert Browning asserts, “Grow old along with me/the best is yet to be!” Happily, then, age is reconciled with youth and fall is reconciled with spring. I am not at all sure though, how comfortable Hopkins would be with that.
I find my memories are in overdrive during the fleeting days of October. Another cool day of dreams and ghosts past and present were with me one day more than 40 years ago. I was living in Manhattan. Those were the years I “dwelled in possibility,” to quote Emily Dickinson out of context. At 28, it was no challenge to look years into the future as I pondered graduate schools and job prospects. Late afternoon coffees gave way to mid evening, wine accompanied dinners with friends. One late Saturday morning, I got together with a friend, and we went for a walk in Central Park. The leaves had begun to peak and were brilliant on that radiant morning. As we talked of books, I quoted Gerard Manley Hopkins (his lyrics come to mind particularly in the fall). I shared a favorite quote, also from his poem “Spring and Fall”. “Ah! As the heart grows older/It will come to such sights colder/By and by, nor spare a sigh/Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie”. Clearly, I was old enough by then to recognize how quickly life passes. The vivid accompaniment of scattered leaves both on the ground and those that drifted leisurely from the trees, fed my imagination that day. I was filled with the sweet/sorrow of a beauty that cannot last.
