As a kid I never experienced anything like autumn, or at least I don’t remember it, growing up in the tropics. I know that as a two-year-old I must have spent a change of seasons in Antwerp, Belgium, where we lived for a year. I remember seeing pictures of me in the snow, but I do know that we were back in the tropics before fall arrived the next year because my brother was born in early December. You were not allowed to fly when heavily pregnant back then (air pressure changes would make the baby pop out in the 1950s), and from what I know, we arrived back on our tropical island around August or September. Actually, my brother was born on December 5th which is Sinter Klaas (Saint Nicolas’ birthday) for us Dutch folks and that was a bitter disappointment to me. I had asked the good old wise guy for a sister, and he had delivered a brother to the hospital, or at least that was what my father told me. That is still the first memory I have; I was three and a half years old.
Our vacations, a few months back to the Netherlands every four years, never coincided with autumn; I think. Although I do remember briefly going to first grade in Terbregge, a suburb of Rotterdam, during our first vacation. This must have been in September, so I guess, theoretically it was fall in Holland. My luck, I came down with mononucleosis or kissing disease, a six-year-old kissing? Obviously, it was a vacation to forget! Moreover, I remember running home after school, to my grandmother’s home, where we were staying that vacation, and pooping in my pants; I had to go so badly. Yup, forget that vacation.
After that though, I do not remember any autumn visits to the Netherlands until I moved there after my 16th birthday. I lived with my aunt and four cousins that first autumn and I remember that she rented a cabin on or near the Veluwe in the center of the Netherlands. De Veluwe is a natural area that has a sandier soil and consist of woods and heather. Part of it is a National Park or a nature preserve. I remember walking through the woods often alone, (my cousins were not outdoorsy) during that week looking over fields of blooming heather. It was foggy at times and for the first time I heard the call of the coocoo. It was absolutely magical and amazing for a lonely, 16-year-old introvert who had just arrived from the tropics where it was always summer and was now temporarily living with five females (women and girls).
Autumn, a time of death, recycling, eventual rebirth, Halloween, the rutting (breeding) of deer, bucks will shed their horns (a.k.a. racks) to build back larger and better, even our elections, you get the idea (hopefully not the death of democracy as we know it). Farmers are harvesting, the grapes are coming into the wineries (ah, Beaujolai), the first beers are being brewed from the fresh grains (what I knew as Bock Bier in Holland, although it was usually released after the New Year). It is a mystical time and a time of hope, rebirth around the corner.
Walking through the woods behind our home I notice that the colors are more intense, partially because of the lower sun angle, and partially because of the changing leave colors. I don’t think we have seen the sun in three or four days now. It has been a bit dreary, but that makes it even more fall-like with temperatures in the low 60s (around 15 degrees C). In my days in the Netherlands this was the time for foggy days.
The seasons, the diurnal fluxes (day and night) and even the differences in day length between summer and winter are fascinating to me. This is what triggers autumn. Some of these triggers will probably never change, while seasons may change over or maybe even within generations, partially as a result of climate change. Sitting here writing this, I come to remember my college plant physiology courses where I learned about the mechanism of day length or better night length on hormones and plant response (read leaf color and plant senescence/dormancy for the winter). For example, maples start changing color when the days and nights have the same length (September 21), while oaks generally do it around the first frost.
But enough science speak. It just made me wonder how organisms or plants would or are adapting on other planets in other solar systems where there is a different gravity, season length, day or night length, year length, light intensity, wavelength of the light being emitted by their sun or suns, composition of their atmosphere, and soil types. I expect that those organisms have evolved there over a long time and should be adapted. They should probably thrive. In our case, because of human manipulation of our environment, the changes might be going too fast for some of the organisms to adapt, which may lead to mass extinction. Punctuated evolution anyone? Who knows?
Read up on that, I might write about that one of these days a bit more. Right now, I am just enjoying autumn; however, you know me, my mind cannot help wandering and wondering a bit. It is autumn, time for death and rebirth!
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| Nothing better than an early morning autumn walk in the woods with the dogs. As most of you know, this is my passion, experiencing the sights, sounds and smell of the woods behind our home. |
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| This picture was taken mid-afternoon, during a lunch walk. I just enjoyed how the two trunks (the young and the old) mirrored each other. As a bonsai guy, this is what we are after when we try to create movement in our trunks, or trees in general. As I mentioned I am always, studying and wondering. I also let my mind wander. |
