Autumn thoughts

The prolonged summer in Southern England has led to drought and parched landscapes. Observations of seasonal changes evoke memories of agricultural traditions and community rituals. As autumn approaches, opportunities for reflection arise amidst nature’s cycles, underscoring the importance of appreciating the passage of time and the changing seasons.

The end of a long, hot summer

Here, in Southern England, the summer has been long, hot and very dry. Apart from a thunderstorm in June and and a couple of light showers earlier this week (late August), there has been no rain for almost three months.

Five official heatwaves and more days over 35 Celsius than ever before has meant that the landscape is parched and many trees are already dropping their leaves. This is sometimes called a ‘false autumn’. England’s green and pleasant land is currently very brown.

Autumn is often viewed as the beginning of the end of the year – nature getting ready ready for winter. Migratory birds will start to (or already have) head South and squirrels will be caching their nuts. It is only a month until the equinox.

At some point, the warm weather will come to an end (although the long range weather forecast suggests periods of above average temperatures may return in September) and the rain will return.

Noticing the seasons

As a child, growing up in the 1970s in a village in the Lincolnshire fens, I was always very aware of the changes in the seasons – not just as the landscape went from black to green to gold and back again, but also because our village community, in common with thousands of others, maintained seasonal rituals that were rooted in farming practices, especially those in summer and autumn.

There was ploughing (with lapwings and gulls following the plough), and ploughing matches – yes, farmers competed (and still do) against each other to see who can plough the straightest furrow and they have special competition ploughs to do it.

The sugar beet harvest marked winter, with the rivers of mud on the roads and the stench of the local sugar factories (even from ten miles away, if the wind was blowing the wrong way, you could smell them).

Spring brought emerging crops and, a few miles to the East, the bulb fields and the annual Tulip festival in Spalding. At that time, coach tours from all over the country would visit the Lincolnshire bulb fields, which rivalled those in the Netherlands.

Midsummer was the time of village fetes, always held in a farm yard. Late summer brought the cereal harvest (followed, in those days, by stubble fires) and then, in the autumn came my favourite – the harvest festival.

Even as someone who has never been remotely religious, there was always something special about seeing the mountains of fresh produce and specially-baked loaves (made to look like wheat sheaves) adorning the village church. Harvest festivals with their optimistic hymns and harvest suppers were a very obvious reminder that the food we ate came, almost miraculously, from the land around us, grown with real expertise.

I studied Agricultural Botany at university, and worked in agricultural research for several years – that certainly kept me in touch with natural cycles. Then, I changed track and entered the world of workplace design and interior landscaping. After a quarter of a century embedded in offices, the seasons were almost obliterated from day-to-day thought (apart from the odd day of snow disruption).

In fact, as an interior landscaper, putting plants into buildings makes one acutely aware that the insides of buildings don’t have seasons – it is the lack of seasonal variation that determines the types of plants that can thrive indoors – those that are adapted to near constant light and heat.

The pulse of nature is not only noticeable from the countryside. In the UK, we are very lucky that our urban areas are generally well provided with public parks and gardens, and these provide very necessary spaces for people to gain the benefits of fresh air and sunshine, as well as to appreciate nature. Indeed, many of our parks are richer in wildlife than the countryside.

The forced pauses in our routines give us time to reflect and gather our thoughts. Noticing the changes in seasons – the result of the inevitable progress of the Earth orbiting around the sun as it has done for over four billion years – has provided me with a very necessary reconnection with nature and the passage of time.

Autumn is a period of new beginnings

September sees the start of the academic year and children will be back at school after a long summer break. Students may be starting a new phase in their life as they begin their studies at university, and new graduates and school leavers may be looking for their first jobs and their passage into adulthood.

Farmers will be sowing seeds for next year’s harvest and wine makers (of which there are many in this part of the country) will begin to harvest their grapes. Retailers will be getting ready for the Christmas shopping season too.

Moving indoors

It is also the time to start thinking more about our indoor environments and how to create spaces and opportunities for peace and contemplation.

It’s not yet time to light the fires and bring out the blankets, but the opportunities for getting the full benefits of nature outdoors – especially the sensory inputs facilitated by a full immersion in nature – may diminish.

As I get older, I reflect on the fact that I may have fewer than a hundred seasons left. Taking the time – and making the effort – to appreciate the fascinating ways in which nature changes (and how my body experiences it over time) becomes more precious.

I’m lucky in that I have the time (I don’t work as much as I used to) and the space to explore nature as much as I want. I intend to make the most of that good fortune.