Autumn came early this year.
The horse chestnuts turned first, right at the beginning of September, no doubt partly from drought. Since the torrential rain in August we haven’t had much at all here in central England. That might’ve been good if we’d had warm sunny days instead, but no; for the most part, it’s been grey and cool and dull.
Then last week I noticed the sycamores turning rusty, and now the birches are gold tinted as well. Yesterday, I saw a Virginia creeper in its full flaming red-purple glory, and at last over the weekend we had some of the September weather I love so much – clear blue sky, freshness in the air, and a warm sun. Glorious days for the final weekend of our Open Studio, with people sitting in the garden enjoying their tea and cake (thanks, Mum!), the last hurrah of summer surrounding them.
This is my favourite time of year. I pay close attention to all the seasons as they pass, and to the plants and animals that adapt to them. Walking the Two Bad Dogs every day gives me the opportunity to watch the hedgerows as they change, to see the first beautifully constructed webs of spider season stretch across incredible distances, become spangled with dew as the mornings become misty, and finally shred and blow away as their makers move to dark dens for winter – or perish, picked off by clever blackbirds.
Leaves turn, berries ripen, acorns fall. It was fallen oak leaves that inspired Hamadryad: Oak. I picked some up on a walk and realised I’d never before noticed how an oak leaf changes colour – from the outside edges in. It starts with just a fine golden edge on a green leaf, then the gold moves inwards until the leaf is all golden with bright green veins, so green it’s hard to believe it’s real. Finally the gold leaf turns ochre and the veins turn yellow and the leaf dries brittle and fragile.
English oak & ivy research pages
(I’m terrible for bringing things home – conkers, leaves, feathers, sprigs of wildflowers, seashells – sometimes to identify, sometimes just because I love them. And yes, I do have a clutter problem.)
So when the idea for a hamadryad piece began to form, I knew she would be the nymph of an English Oak – Quercus robur (or pedunculata). And I knew it would be autumn for my hamadryad, the end of summer when her hair turns the ochre of her tree’s leaves and the glossy brown of its acorns, as she gets ready to withdraw into her tree and sleep soundly over winter, dreaming of the fresh green shoots of spring.
Because that’s part of what I love, in my life and my work, – the progression of the seasons, the wheel of the year, turning from one to the next, inevitably, endlessly and beautifully. There is something to celebrate in each season; each turn of the wheel to a new quadrant brings new wonders like the spiders of September to fascinate and inspire.
(And I am not a fan of spiders in general, so if even I can find something to love about spider season, there’s something there for all of us. Isn’t there?)
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Wow, what a wonderfully evocative piece of writing. Very inspirational – thank you for a lovely treat.
Hi Claire – thanks, I’m glad you liked it!
I started out to write something completely different about what autumn means for me, but this came out instead. So the other post will have to wait for another day.
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