The Twists & Turns Of Autumn Leaves

0
266
Leslie Rego, “Autumn Twig with Leaves,” pencil.

BY LESLIE REGO

Leslie Rego, “Autumn Twig with Leaves,” pencil.
Leslie Rego, “Autumn Twig with Leaves,” pencil.

Thoreau writes in his essay Autumnal Tints, “every blade in the field, every leaf in the forest, lays down its life in its season as beautifully as it was taken up. It is the pastime of a full quarter of the year. Dead trees, sere leaves, dried grass and herbs, are not these a good part of our life? And what is that pride of our autumnal scenery but the hectic flush, the sallow and cadaverous countenance of vegetation, its painted throes, with the November air for canvas?”

Thoreau does not confuse a withered leaf with a dead one. Nor would he believe that a crinkled berry or fruit hanging haphazardly on a tree would be synonymous with a rotten berry or fruit. But, rather, they have arrived at a late and perfect maturity.

October is the month of brilliant leaves with rich glow. November is the month of soft twilight. The last leaves flutter gently as they fall from the trees, choosing the spot upon which to molder and decay. As we rustle through the leaves, Thoreau maintains that, ”the whole earth is a cemetery pleasant to walk in.”

All of this is, of course, a metaphor for life. Thoreau rejects the idea of autumn as a ‘dying of the light’ and, rather, approaches it as a time when nature ripens and bursts forth in life. This is a very original and unconventional conception of the season.

I love to collect autumn leaves and bring them home, placing them in small bottles around the house. I consider each curl, each twist, each coil of the leaves as bends in my life road. I like having these leaves surrounding me as we go through winter. They remind me that there are constant directions and choices in life.

The grasses and the flowers will continue to wither as we hike during November. Thoreau rightly believes that the withered herbage opens a spot for the new. Before the snow settles, it is comforting to see each flattened blade of grass, each seed head, each shriveled leaf as a bend in the road and the precursor of life yet to come.

Leslie Rego is an Idaho Press Club award-winning columnist, artist and Blaine County resident. To view more of Rego’s art, visit leslierego.com.