Thoughts on autumn
Autumn is my favorite time of the year. I’m not quite sure why. Every change of season triggers a torrent of memories that are evoked and heightened by the smells, sounds and sights of the world around me. Most of the recalled memories are good, though not all of them are happy.
It doesn’t get dark in the summer in Finland. The sun barely sets, casting the world in a dim dusk that lasts only an hour or two. At four o’clock in the morning a light mist hovers gently and it’s as light as noon on a overcast day. It is eerie to walk around and not see any people anywhere. Everything is perfectly still, except for the huge ruckus the birds make. Its surprising how much noise birds actually make. Summer nights are special, but they don’t strike as deep a chord in me as autumn evenings do.
I love the sharpness of the fall air, the damp but soft and welcoming darkness of a fall evening. The leaves, slowly turning yellow and red, tint the cheerful light from homes and the still and quiet light shed by the street lamps. The bare ground mutes the twinkle of the stars and the light of the moon. I can smell the smoke of people warming their houses. I love the shuffle of leaves under my feet.
In winter, Finland is covered by snow or what used to be snow, like puddles, ice and mud. The snow is fun when you can play in it. It’s beautiful to look at; it paints the world a bright, fresh and sleepy landscape. It’s a drag when it melts and becomes mud. It’s treacherous when it melts and then freezes, coating the ground with an opacent layer of slippery ice. It’s enchanting when it falls, floating from the sky in proverbial snowflakes. In Finnish, there are dozens of words for snow and the different forms it can take.
Winters are dark in Finland. When I get up for school, it’s dark outside. When I come home from school, the sun has already set and it’s dark again. Most of the day is dark, but the darkness is pierced by the confusing light given by the street lights and lamp posts that is reflected by the snow and ice. The light eminates from multiple directions and lacks any uniform direction. It seems like it hangs in the air. It doesn’t seem real, or permanent. Winter days are glorious when the sun is out. The nights are mystical and other-worldly when the ground is covered by snow. But there’s something much more romantic about the fall.
Fall means bursts of creativity and inspiration. I’m swept up by large feelings. One moment I’m spilling over with life and the next I’m overwhelmed by the bittersweetness and fragility of human existence. Time slows for me when I sit down to read the newspaper, listen to the radio and drink a cup of coffee. Even though I am an evening person, I’ve learned how to get up early and savor some quiet moments before the just starting day. Evenings spent reading or writing, off the Web or on, are especially intense in the fall. I love the fall.
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