October’s Epistle

”I can smell autumn dancing in the breeze. The sweet chill of pumpkin, crisp sunburnt leaves.” — Ann Drake

Photography: C.Chisare, 2022

Beloved October children,

As the waning light of late September begins to turn leaves into deepening reds and golds, look for me; for soon I will be making my entrance into the season in a new tapestried coat, threaded with crimson and golds, burgundy and browns. My autumn sunlight will dazzle every tree leaf, every hillside and mountain hollow, transforming landscapes with my richly hued colors.

Photography: Vincent Chisare, 2022

I’ve heard there is much speculation as to which one of my 11 siblings is the most beautiful of all. I know many are partial to my warmer sisters July and August as they offer more balmy and tropical climates. But I can offer a certain pleasing quality that cannot be named nor found elsewhere in the year except the autumn season. The French call it “je ne sais quoi”. I like to consider it living out loud and in full technicolor.

I will guarantee that you will live a life larger, broader and more full of joy during my arrival. You will be delighted in the celebrations and harvests that I alone will provide — Oktoberfests, harvests from orchards and fields, kicking up my fallen leaves, bonfires and chilly nights, a cabin on a lake surrounded by my flaming colors, special birthday celebrations and finally, All Hallows Eve which will bring ghoulies and ghosties to your doorstep.

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”

—F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

But please do not forget my paradox, for I am a study in contradictions. Under my brilliant crimson and gold colors, a withered brown leaf awaits, bringing the impermanence of the season for which I am so known — warmth will be followed by crisp chilliness, colorful landscapes followed by a gray lifelessness, and fields will be cut to stubble and lay fallow. The red of the apple’s cheek will brown with my first frost. There will be a time to gather into storehouses before the long, dark months that will follow me.

“For everything there is a season,

and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant,

and a time to pluck up what is planted.”

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-3)

The impermanence that is mine is but a reminder to you that there isn’t one thing on this earth that will last forever. You and I are nothing more than a vapor, an autumn mist. In an instant we are gone. Change is inevitable. Just as my beautiful flamboyant golden leaves on the trees will wither and fade and cling to what once was, your own stubborn human nature refuses to let go of past hurts and imagined trespasses. These things will age you as sure as that withered leaf has aged with the season’s change. What are you, dear child, willing to release to the fresh autumn winds?

So, as your birthday approaches and you reflect on all that has been accomplished (or not) since your last October birthday, I am whispering in your ear that it has become time to pull out those warmer sweaters that have been stuffed into drawers and the back of the closet. Those older beloved ones, the one with the patch, slightly unraveled at one cuff and smells of woodsmoke. The one you loath to part with because it has traveled the country with you… bringing comfort in the quiet mornings of the redwood forest and warmth on those nights spent on wild beaches with storms swirling. It’s that favorite sweater that always ends up in your backpack every time you hike in the mountains, forever gathering burs… I’m not a fan of the color, but it’s a friend like no other… and that crooked patch is your way of preserving that very special friendship.

The myriad of shapes and colors of my legendary pumpkins are beginning to adorn front steps all across the valley and are piled high in farmers’ markets as well as waiting to be picked in local patches. Even though the rain was sparse, I believe it was still a good harvest this year. I am so delighted to see another color other than green.

As the longer nights draw near and days begin to shorten, I hope in your festivities that you don’t forget to make that deliciously fragrant autumn stew that will bubble all day and fill your home with such a delicious enticement, it makes me want to be human. I hope that fragrance of cinnamon, of pumpkin and spices will be a reminder of all the good things that will surely come your way in the coming year.

Here where I dwell, my twilight is tinted in the faintest of lavender hues and it is time to close my letter. My wish for this month, as your own reflections come to a close with birthday cake and cards and well wishes from friends, is that you settle into your favorite chair by the window with a new book and the quilt that you pull against the chill.

I want, above all, for you to realize that your life is perfect. There were ups and down, victories and defeats, illnesses and health all through your past October year; but deep down, I believe you know you wouldn’t change one thing.

Those victories and defeats brought great growth and maturity. There were illnesses, but they were conquered. Your age doesn’t matter, the color of your hair nor those lines on your face; for those lines have added character and strength and are also a testament to lots of laughter and joy.

The newly set goals and aspirations for the coming year are admirable and with me at your side, I know you will succeed. For you, my dear, have been blessed in life simply because you were born a child of October.

“You will be blessed when you come in and blessed when you go out.” (Deuteronomy 28, NIV)

Lovingly,

Your October