A Change in the Air

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There is a new feeling in the air which comes with the change of the seasons.   It's a little cooler, a little breezier. When the swallows leave (usually around the 22nd of September) there is a feeling of melancholy.

Many of our greatest writers have evoked this feeling, which almost has a touch of bereavement about it.  The passing of a season, but also the passing of the years.

‘Ah Margaret are you grieving 

Over golden grove unleaving…’   (Gerard Manley Hopkins)

Fall is so dramatic in Canada, where I’m from. Here in Caithness we don’t walk ankle deep in golden leaves, but the drama of the light and the clouds and the changing tide tells us more about this shift from summer to autumn.

Today is one of those autumn blue-sky days. The air is remarkably still and it's very peaceful outside - like the north is pausing. It is the tranquility of this quiet autumn calm that I love and that fills my soul with a longing that is hard to describe. It is the silent hush that Keats so beautifully alludes to in his line 'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness…'

In contrast to the stillness, I went down to the beach and stood in awe of the power of the sea. The sea grass had been flattened by the tidal surges and tendrils of sugar kelp had been released from their holdfasts to the rocks, spilling out on the shoreline, some only to be swept back by the waves.  Foam nestled in the rocks and got caught in the wracks creating a mottled covering of something like shaving cream along the exposed coastline.

Gulls drifted and cried over the sound of the crashing waves taking advantage of the stirred up seabed, and dived for fish and crab, resting and bobbing on the waves when satisfied, seemingly enjoying the rise and fall of the swell.

Further up along the upper shoreline the seaside sand plant, otherwise known as Sea Chickpea or Sea Pimpernel, is a low-lying succulent that seems to have spread quite a lot. It has changed colour from green to an ochre, matching the gold lichen on the surrounding rocks nearby. I love the spots of yellow against the more neutral grey sand and stone.  

Suddenly the sun came out from behind a cloud, shedding the most beautiful glow over the bay.  I got rather excited and jumped up to try and capture it with my camera. And then I sat for a while, soaking it in.

The beauty can be almost overwhelming. I want to somehow reach out and embrace it all - take it with me - consume it and keep it forever.

I watched a kestrel hanging in space, fluttering constantly as it scoped the fields below.  It seemed to match the hovering sensation I feel. The lull in the air almost gives a false sense of security, but I know these days are fleeting. Perhaps that is the place where the longing lies, between stillness and an ever quickening breeze.  

Soon it will be time for us to land somewhere; to commit. It will be time to move forward with renewed gusto and sense of hope and purpose. To step ahead with intention.

But for now, it's ok to hover for a while…

‘The leaves fall, fall as from far, 

Like distant gardens withered in the heavens; 

They fall with slow and lingering descent. 

And in the nights the heavy Earth, too, falls 

From out the stars into the Solitude. 

Thus all doth fall. This hand of mine must fall 

And lo! the other one:—it is the law. 

But there is One who holds this falling 

Infinitely softly in His hands.’    

(Autumn, by Rainer Maria Rilke)