An autumn destination

We often consider fall a time of endings. But it is also an important time of beginnings.

Modern Western culture celebrates New Years shortly after Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, when the sun turns on its heal and begins an apparent migration back into the Northern Hemisphere. In this view, fall is the end of the year, coinciding with the shortening of days, the falling of leaves, and the emigration of birds. In marks an important end of the active cycle for animals that hibernate.

But not everyone sees the year this way. Various cultures celebrate the New Year at all different times. One tradition I find compelling is the ancient Israelites' New Years celebration which occurred in August, to mark the beginning of a new agricultural year. The modern Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, celebrates the anniversary of the creation of the world during the seventh month of their calendar, coinciding with September or October.

People are like squirrels. Some species, the ground squirrels and chipmunks, hibernate. Tree squirrels and flying squirrels remain active throughout the winter.

I'm more of a chipmunk. This is the most difficult time for me to stay committed to my ritual walks. I'm not fond of cold or wet weather, and declining daylight makes me torpid.

After a dry summer we've had a fair share of rain in Guelph over the past several weeks. This morning was damp, windy and the chilliest yet. But I know that staying indoors and avoiding those walks is less healthy for my mind. Today I decided to shake the cocooning trend of the past several days.

So I headed to the park. As I walked along the footpath, I found everything slightly unfamiliar. It occurred to me I have probably never done it before—walk there in October. It is a precedent, a sign of growth and healing for me, and one I must take pride in.

The park is strangely green today. All the bright maples have shed their colourful leaves. The ones hanging on—black willows, buckthorns and other shrubs—are still verdant and will remain so until a hard frost. The undergrowth is still green, too, having lost the gold and jewel tones of blooming asters and goldenrod.

But the thing that surprised me most was finding a fat new bracket fungus emerging from the trunk of a Manitoba maple. It was creamy white. I stopped to run my finger across its smooth upper surface. The whole formation vibrated tenderly at my touch. Many fungi favour the cool, damp conditions of fall. While much of nature appears to be dying, the hidden structures of mushrooms swell, burst and erect their fruiting bodies for the world to see. Thus they launch their spores in autumn, the beginning of a new life cycle.