Meditations On Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun…

To Autumn, John Keats 🍁

October is finally here! This is around the time of year when Keats features (semi-)prominently in my head. Every time I walk through the brilliant landscape of red, orange and yellow, I can hear his words circulating at the back of my mind.

During my time in Cambridge, I would always take the path through Trinity’s backs when returning to my room from town. Upon leaving the back gate of college and travelling over the bridge, I would find myself in a path lined with towering trees on either side [1].

The changing of the seasons was always the most obvious here.

The Gamboge foliage is gorgeous!

Whenever I first arrived in college for Michaelmas term, I would always be welcomed by the sight of lush greenery. However, as we ventured deeper into October and towards the height of autumn, the leaves would darken into a rich russet. Once this happened, the trees would become completely bare within the span of a week and remain so until April.

To me, the beauty of autumn is compounded by its transient nature [2]; autumn is nature’s final burst of colour — its last stand — before being engulfed by the deathly grip of winter [3].

Although I’ve always been fairly excited about the arrival of autumn, I also get quite nostalgic for the summer heat [4]. The UK is weird in that the beginnings of autumn start creeping in at around August (or so you think — because it gets so so cold), and then suddenly, at the mid-end of September, the universe decides to through you a curveball in the form of a week of sun and summer. However, when October rolls around and the cold starts to set in, you know that this time, it is here to stay [5].

[1] I am ashamed to say that I have no idea what kind of trees they are. If someone could so very kindly tell me — I’ve attached a photo of the trees in the backs above. I’ve tried Google, but I guess Google doesn’t actually know everything.

[2] My appreciation of transience is heavily influenced by the Japanese aesthethic of 侘寂 (wabi-sabi). On a (side) side note, I’d love to go 紅葉狩り (momijigari), the tradition of admiring autumn leaves.

[3] ‘Burst’: like the sudden yet short-lived rush of sweetness when bursting a very ripe grape in one’s mouth. I clearly had Keats’ Ode on Melancholy at the back of my mind, “Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine…”.

[4] Though to be fair, I didn’t really experience autumn until I went to the UK; Hong Kong isn’t exactly known for having a ‘proper’ four seasons (I can wear a tank top during mid-December and I’m the kind of person who is always cold).

[5] Fun fact: this blog post was originally going to be about careers and grad schemes, with autumn + October being a lead into the piece. However, as you can clearly see, I got carried away with autumn and just wasn’t in headspace to think about pragmatic matters anymore. This is a good thing: meditating on the beauty of autumn is much more important than stressing about ‘grad schemes’.