If spring is the budding season, summer the season of sunshine and roses, and winter, except for snow-bunnies, the season that drives us southward, or indoors, then, autumn, dazzling in its cloak of blazing colors, is a season for all reasons.
I got to thinking about autumn things after seeing the movie: "Autumn in New York," and, on leaving the show, overhearing members of the audience rave about how beautiful New York City must be in the fall. I have visited New York City in October, and it certainly is as lovely as the movie shows it to be at that time of the year. However, I would challenge anyone to name a place that tops Ontario when it comes to fabulous fall foliage.
Being a Fall-Guy, the very words that autumn and fall conjure up in my mind: russet pears, cranberry sauce, apple strudel, pumpkin pies and Niagara peaches, fall on my ear like the soothing sound of raindrops plopping on lily pads. When the humidity, the smog and the bugs of summer have all been blown away by September's cool breezes, and the slush and sniffles of winter are still forming ranks before attacking us in force, fall, exploding in a blaze of maples and sumac, turns Ontario into a red, yellow and orange wonderland indeed.
Fall is: Halloween ghost stories told around a wood fire and bobbing for apples in a big tub of water. It's little goblins trick-or-treating in the October gloaming, their innocent faces hidden behind devilish masks. Autumn is: Fishing in the misty chill of a lake that's been deserted by its fair weather friends. It's listening to the eerie call of the loon while roasting wieners over a campfire. It's the World Series, and football games, Labor Day and Thanksgiving. This golden season that falls between sunburn and frostbite, means homemade plum jam and blueberry pie, cotton candy and all the midway bells and smells at the county fair. It's time for shopping at roadside stands that are flush with the fresh produce of tree and field. It's families going on Sunday afternoon trips to the orchard for tractor rides and the tang of fresh apple cider.
I know a few people who find the fall of the year a depressing season. They tell me it reminds them of the death of summer, and the coming snows. Being a Fall Guy, I, of course, see it differently. With falling leaves swirling around my feet, the pungent smell of wood-smoke in the air, and the bush ablaze in the waning sun, death is the last thing on my mind as I wander through the magical season of a hundred hues that separates the green of summer from winter's white. In fact, I think it would be wonderful if everyone looked this beautiful as they "slipped the surly bonds of earth."
There are summer places and there are winter places, but when the fall queen dons her gorgeous gown of myriad colors and struts her stuff across Ontario, I know one thing for sure: There is no place more beautiful than this place, anyplace.
CFP “Poet in Residence” William Bedford was born in Dublin, Ireland, but has lived in Toronto for most of his life. His poems and articles have been published in many Canadian journals and in some American publications.
