|Autumn Evening by Ferdinand Hodler|
Some regular readers may be tiring of my attention to the changing seasons but I've found at least kindred soul in Phil over at Blue Eyed Ennis. Follow that link to her post, "Seasons and Changing Sensations" where, after her own reflection, she links to a fine essay in The Independent by Michael McCarthy, Autumn: Sad Season of Sensations. I particularly liked this:
Of course, for some people autumn won't mean a thing other than the boring fact that it's not summer any more, and they might see it as merely an intense work or school interlude between the beach and Christmas, with longer nights and worsening weather; or maybe the time when the football season starts to get serious.
But for anyone capable of looking up from their screen, for anyone in the slightest way alive to the rhythms of the natural world and its sights and sounds and smells, autumn has a peculiar personality of its own which is powerfully attractive.
(read the complete essay here)McCarthy closes his piece with Gerard Manley Hopkins' beautiful poem, Spring and Fall. (There's a typo in the Independent's edition: on line 9 "now" should be "know.")
Spring and Fall
to a young child
Margaret, are you grieving(H/T to Phil for the painting above and for the link back to this page.)
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow’s springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
Subscribe to A Concord Pastor Comments