Autumn Colours

Autumn colours stop me in my tracks. I’m not usually fond of yellows and reds, yet when the leaves turn yellow, I’m captivated, mesmerised, gob-smacked. It’s as if the tree has absorbed all the yellows in the neighbourhood – a pure, blazing yellow, the yellowest of yellows. And when those same leaves deepen to ochre, umber and orange-red, they imbue the air with enchantment.

Every shade appears at once on the same tree – as if some leaves are clinging to the comfort of summer while others bravely embrace winter. Green leaves yet to change, golden intermediates, the final dazzling reds ready to fall with the right flick of wind – I feel I’m witnessing a painting by one of the great masters. For an ephemeral moment, I wonder: am I in the National Gallery savouring a Monet, or in a garden hypnotised by the riotous colours of autumn?

But that’s not the whole picture. I haven’t mentioned sunlight – the quiet protagonist in this drama. It’s not the harsh sun that beats down on the head, but a gliding, warm light that renders the leaves translucent, their surfaces trembling in the gentle breeze.

Ah, would it ever be possible to describe the joy this sight induces, the reassurance it provides – that time gently ushers the seasons along, that what I witness today will soon yield to the strong winds of late autumn, carpet the ground with its munificence, and give way to the starkness of winter, when beauty of a different kind plays out the eternal cycle of seasons.