Growing up in Guyana we became acquainted with the season of autumn through the British education system. Autumn is called fall in North America, for obvious reasons. Called by any name it is beyond debate that it is a most beautiful season, some would say the most beautiful one. Many things make fall the beautiful season it is. The cool temperatures, the scurrying squirrels gathering nuts to store for the coming winter, the golden grains in the fields ready for the harvest, the subtle hints that Christmas is not so far away and above all the stunning array of colours that nature puts on display.
The leaves of fall are beautiful wherever they are; on the trees, falling from the trees or on the ground. On the trees fall leaves transform the landscape into a kaleidoscope of colours that is a feast for the eyes and soul. It is amazing that one single leaf can have so many shades of one colour and even such diverse colours as red, yellow, orange, green and more. The collective beauty of several trees displaying this splendour is even more amazing. Fall brings out the creative spirit in people. Artists try to freeze nature’s beauty permanently on canvases, suddenly everyone with a camera endeavours to capture and own a piece of nature adorned in her finest carnival costume, the poets among or in us sing the praises of nature in its hypnotic splendour. But it is not only on the trees that fall leaves are a delight.
One of my great pleasures of the fall season is watching the trees surrender their leaves. In passing though I must confess how intensely I dislike the sight of bare trees. That is why from as early as February or March I begin to examine the trees closely to see whether there are any signs of leaves reappearing. With the slightest of wind the leaves let go of their tenuous holds on the trees. They come cascading down spinning, dancing, floating this way then that as the wind takes them. As they come down they capture and reflect the sunlight. This gives an appearance that the very air itself is splashed with colours as when a child takes mischievous delight in daubing a canvass with all the paints he finds in a studio. This is a sight to behold on a very windy day. And the fall leaves continue to dazzle us with their beauty in yet another way.
On the ground the fall leaves form a many-coloured carpet covering the green grass, as if giving the grass a subtle hint as to what to expect with the coming winter. I think the leaves on the ground look beautiful. I know someone who takes great delight in watching or remembering how children would jump into the raked-up leaves in joyful play, covering themselves under the leaves and scattering them all over the place amidst boisterous laughter and gleeful giggles. The leaves will be gathered, bagged and put out to be taken away. They will be recycled into mulch. Eventually in one form or another the beautiful fall leaves will go back to the earth to decay and be no more. Is there a metaphor for life in the fall leaves? Perhaps.