Here in the UK autumn ends today, 30th November. Unless, that is, you subscribe to the notion that the seasons are astronomically determined, in which case you’ll need to wait until around 22nd December for the official start of winter. But as a cold wind whistles around the house and I look out at naked trees, a garden littered with fallen leaves and sullen skies devoid of swooping swallows, I know that autumn’s over. Sigh!
“Release“, cast in bronze by sculptor Leonie Gibbs, is flanked here by glorious autumnal foliage. We saw it at The Sculpture Park in Surrey.
After a difficult few months in which we found ourselves mostly confined to the house by wardrobe woes, the horrible heatwave and the Covid blues, autumn’s been a welcome opportunity to spread our wings a bit. When we visited Surrey and Sussex in October, a few trees were just beginning to turn. They made a perfect backdrop for the artworks at two sculpture parks we visited, and also for Arundel Castle and the Polesden Lacey Garden Cottage.
Left: “Release” and reflection in the lake. Top right: Arundel Castle in Sussex, viewed from its grounds. Middle right: Autumn foliage at the Hannah Peschar Sculpture Garden in Surrey. Bottom right: The gardens at Polesden Lacey Garden Cottage in Surrey.
Fungi were also much in evidence, a sure sign of the changing seasons.
In terms of its symbolism, autumn is ambiguous, a season of immense joy and unbearable sadness. On the one hand it is a time of plenty, ripening, harvest, and abundance. And yet, on the other hand, it represents decline, decay, old age, and the imminence of death. The colours of autumn are glorious, a celebration of life, but we know it won’t last. The golden leaves will inevitably fall and perish, and greyness will prevail. Autumn is the ultimate proof that All Things Must Pass.
Hidden amongst the autumn trees is “Inca” a one-off sculpture, hand forged from iron by sculptor Nimrod Messeg. We saw it at the Hannah Peschar Sculpture Garden.
But even though All Things Must Pass may sound depressing, it is, for me, a message of hope. Although hard times will soon be upon us, they too shall pass. Nothing is forever, and, in the fulness of time, spring’s awakening will be with us once more.
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Musical postscript
Forever Autumn, written by Jeff Wayne, Gary Osborne and Paul Vigrass, and sung here by Justin Hayward, is a plaintively beautiful love song in which autumn serves as a metaphor for despair and loss. The song features in Jeff Wayne’s musical adaptation of H G Wells’ War of the Worlds. Here’s a selection from the lyrics:
The summer sun is fading as the year grows old And darker days are drawing near The winter winds will be much colder Now you're not here ... Through autumn's gown we used to kick our way You always loved his time of year Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now 'Cos you're not here 'Cos you're not here 'Cos you're not here ... A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eye As if to hide a lonely tear My life will be forever autumn 'Cos you're not here 'Cos you're not here 'Cos you're not here
Listen here, and gently weep for the loves you have lost…
Now I'm 64 
Wow! You’ve just blown me away……Of course I am familiar with this tune and have been known to hum along at times, but I’ve never listened to the words before. Really listened. My perspective has just endured a nudge, thank you, I think.
Should be summer here tomorrow but with continuing rain, floods and even snow in some areas, who knows!
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I hadn’t anticipated that Forever Autumn would be known outside the UK. It’s a moving song, very emotionally charged, and always makes me reflect …
Sorry to hear about your unseasonal weather. It seems to be the pattern everywhere these days. Climate change takes many forms.
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Oh, goodness, “Inca” is just fabulous!
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Yes, spectacular and rather haunting.
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Dear Mr. P. — Thank you for your reflections on Autumn. With the bright colors and reliably clement weather, I think Autumn is more splendid than its showy sister Spring. And, as you note, it heralds decay and retreat. A very interesting partnership.
Your photos of fungi (love ’em!) and sculpture are captivating. I particularly enjoy your compositions of Release in reflection and Inca conversing with the maple. Perhaps they are discussing exactly your insight.
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I wish I could take credit for the photos, but they are the work of the estimable Mrs P. I am merely a wordsmith and occasional videographer, and it’s my good lady wife who wields the camera(s) to fine effect. I reported your feedback to her, and she was “reet chuffed” as they say in Yorkshire (translation: very happy / well pleased) … although Mrs P’s a Derbyshire lass she has some Yorkshire blood in her, so being “reet chuffed” comes naturally to her, particularly when someone’s kind about her photos! Thank you.
I love your interpretation of the Inca artwork being in conversation with the maple. I suspect they’re talking about the weather…which is what most of us do most of the time over here!
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Well, I’m “reet chuffed” to be able to savor Mrs. P.’s artistic eye and to give her full credit. You and she make a good team in this endeavor (of course, you know how I appreciate your research, writing and storytelling!). I suspect you are a good team in many other ways too!
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We have our moments! And I’m pleased to see that you’re “reet chuffed”. If you keep up the good work you’ll qualify as a northern English lass in no time at all!
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When I started to play the (new-to-me) song, my husband said from the other room: “That’s Justin Hayward.” He also told me it was one of his favorite songs! How had I missed it? It’s definitely beautiful and melancholy at the same time.
Mrs. P’s autumnal captures are absolutely gorgeous. When the wait for springtime gets too long and taxing, you can always relive these gloriously autumnal moments. I feel similarly divided about this this change of seasons but always hope that I will get to see another spring.
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I’m so happy to have filled a gap in your musical knowledge! I’ve enjoyed this song for decades, and it still sounds as fresh – and as poignant – as it did when I first heard it.
Mrs P thanks you for your feedback on her photos. On the topic of “surviving” until spring comes round again, I always rejoice upon seeing my first flowering daffodil of the season, and silently celebrate that I’ve survived another winter!
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Daffodils are our reward for having made it through another winter. 😊
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Beautiful images of art and nature. Funny, but I have always thought of autumn as a beginning, probably leftover from my childhood days and the start of the school year.
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You’re absolutely right, in education here too, autumn is the time for new beginnings: new classes, new teachers, new subjects, and sometimes even new schools. Do you suppose the timing is related to the harvest – in rural societies children were needed to help on the farm over summer, but once the harvest was brought in there was time for them to get down to some learning?
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Thank you for a beautiful and poignant blog post. The photographs are world class and I think you should consider compiling and printing a pictorial memoir. Whether for personal or public use, it would be an invaluable record. For example, over a span of several decades, a local Brisbane photographer took B&W photos of early Brisbane houses without knowing that in years to come those iconic homes would vanish from the landscape forever. His work is now archived at State Library for all to view, albeit with a tear in the eye.
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Thank you, Gretchen, for your kind and encouraging words. I agree totally that no generation can properly understand how its life and times will be viewed by future generations, what will be remembered and what will have been forgotten. Tastes change, and what is knocked down can’t be resurrected (most of the interesting bits of my local city were flattened before I even arrived there in the late 1970s). Hopefully this blog offers a snapshot in time (albeit from the perspective of an aging, sentimental, left-of-centre hippy-type) and I need to consider how best to ensure that it lives on in some form.
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Well said, and so many of us relate to your words and images.
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Lovely autumn images! It is feeling wintry here now too, but we were lucky enough to have some very good weather in October. That was superb timing, because a friend who lives abroad came to stay and we were able to show off the beauty of a UK autumn. 🙂
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Thank you! Agreed, a good autumn here is something to savour, and this year’s has definitely been a good one (and unusually long, too).
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I enjoyed your fungi posts, such a dazzling variety of colours and shapes. The Northern hemisphere autumn foliage is beautiful, the coloured leaves. Autumn in the Southern Hemisphere is not so evident. Right now we’re moving into Summer, the wind is pumping and the temps are all over the place. I’m on the southern tip of the continent, but further North, violent and dramatic thunderstorms have wreaked havoc in the summer rainfall areas.
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Thank you! Today the temperature has dropped and the forecasters are muttering darkly about snow on the horizon, so it appears that autumn’s definitely behind us. Scraping the ice off the windscreen just now I couldn’t help thinking how much more comfortable it must be in the Southern Hemisphere, although I don’t like the sound of those “violent and dramatic thunderstorms”. It seems like the weather’s gone a bit crazy everywhere this year.
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