I can say with the authority born of experience and because it is my own view that Autumn began today.
How do I know?
Well, today was my 25th ParkRun and I chose, because my running partner for the day wanted to stay close to home, Dartford Park - the one with the hill halfway round (more mountain than hill - spiked boots, crampons, ropes are essential!). As the starter pistol (shout of GO!) started, as I clicked my watch to time the run, as I slipped on the very first step, the rain ceased and the race... sorry the ParkRun began.
5Km over a mix of trails and tarmac, of slippery wooden bridges, of huffing and puffing all around (me included), and my running partner vanishing into the distance (as per normal - I don't mind, it gives me a pace to aim for). Then that bloody hill which you have to run twice - as I finished a respectable 60th out of the field, I can tell you that at least 210 people had been up that hill, making it muddier and muddier so that on my second ascent of the north face of the Eiger it was slippery as hell.
Anyway the race, sorry run was complete, and the rain began again.
My Race, sorry, Run partner's partner commented upon Autumn which is where this post should have begun, but I like a good preamble and set up.
Anyway he said that he loved the colours of Autumn and gazed wistfully around at the trees which surrounded the park. Now, as you'll know, I am colourblind and this set me to thinking about Autumn.
I can see the colours, at least some of them, but I am aware that I do not see them all. For you, they may pop, be bright, in your face, screaming the season of autumn at you. I just don't see them all or in such clarity, with such vibrance. Yet, I see the hues and differences, I can tell by the subtle dullness of the colours under a muted sky that they are not the colours of summer.
I am missing out and I know this. I've known it for near on 46 of my 52 years, maybe one or two more.
Later, as I was driving to help a friend move house, I passed under and avenue of autumnal trees as I left my village. I decided then and there that I agreed with him, I like autumn. I get it. I understand it.
Autumn is, to me, a time of quiet and relaxing into the season, into a senescence. The leaves which drip from the trees and dance across the ground on the slightest breeze, or are kicked up by the feet of a small child with a gleeful smile before they jump in muddy puddles, are those little moments of the life before, of the moments lived and memories forged in time. They are not lost. Eventually they will mulch down and become nutrients for the next growth of leaves, the next generation which will emerge in a few months time.
A time when we take a breath and settle ourselves down from the excitement of a brief spring of fun, enjoyment, a long summer of dreams and holidays, and ready ourselves for the solitude and cold of winter. It is a time of reflection and coming to terms, of preparing for an end to a year, a passing of all that the year brought to you door, some of which you grasped with both hands, some you let go, and some slipped through your fingers even as hard as you tried to hold onto it.
Autumn is time to think think and ponder, to reflect. In that breath between October and November we pause all that is life, even as it races on apace, and we think... let memories come and hang around in our mind while we toil, trouble, and take time.
It is a sad season, but it passes and leads to the hope of spring.
So, yes, I like it.
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