Nature Is Ever At Work
/November, 2019
“Nature is ever at work building and pulling down, creating and destroying, keeping everything whirling and flowing, allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion, chasing everything in endless song out of one beautiful form into another”
It started happening in August… the first scarlet branches reached out across a backdrop of deep green, and whispered a warning, “Winter is Coming.” It feels almost here; the bite of cold nips my cheeks, and barren branches reach up into a frosty sky filled with bright sunlight that holds no warmth. The air carries the crisp autumn smells of decay, tannins and dark humus.
I kick through the thick layer of leaves on the ground, symphony of colors unfolding in their turn… the red maples, the bronze burnished oaks with their abundance of acorns, the fiery sugar maples. Sunny yellow birch and amber-glowing aspen—their branches once graced by quivering gold coins—falling in cascades on the wind, swirling into hollows, floating reflectively on dark water. Science can explain this symphony… chlorophyll disappears as the plant’s solar food factory shuts down for the season, revealing other compounds with complicated-sounding names—carotenoids, flavonoids, anthocyanins. Like a painter’s palette, these pigments produce the colors, but we still can’t explain the symmetry, patterns, and sheer variety Nature puts on for this final blaze of glory. This belongs to the realm of magic, artistry, and wonder.
Now is a time for harvest, for gathering… not only for food and firewood for the winter, but also for taking stock; sifting and winnowing through our human efforts, our summer’s wild hopes and dreams… some realized, and some that will require another season (or several) to come to fruition. We, like the plants and animals, must operate within this circular timeline of nature. I wander these forest trails seeking reflection, taking solace in the deep solitude and the comfort of this natural rhythm.
As autumn unfolded, the macrocosm of the canopy was at times almost too breathtaking to absorb… against a backdrop of pure azure blue sky the contrasting golds and reds sang out loudly. I am oddly grateful to see the trees enter into a time of rest, to see the simplicity of branches and underlying forms.
I tune my attention to the microcosm of processes occurring underfoot… the eternal processes of death, decay, and resurrection. Just off the path lies a fallen White Birch (Betula papyrifera) log, and a crack in its flaking bark holds a tiny world within, full of life. A minute Red Maple (Acer rubrum) seedling—no doubt the progeny of the canopy overhead—has taken root and completed its first life cycle, proudly displaying a few fledgling red leaves. Looking closer, in this one log, I see death is but an illusion. Its outer shell of bark merely holds its former shape, while inside all of the various organisms and physical forces of decomposition are slowly working their quiet alchemy, creating spongy earthen-scented humus that speaks to my soul of something ancient and primordial. Mosses creep into cracks and crevices, filling them with their glowing green light.
As the final crescendo dies down, with this year’s crop of leaves shed, the sugars stored away for next year’s growth, we enter the fallow time. Birdsong gives way to a silent hum, low notes, and a quiet, almost imperceptible rhythm of time. Soon all will be covered under a blanket of white, these trails will carry the gliding strokes of skiers, and deep silence will enfold the woods.
