Turn and Face the Strange

Many times (for me) seasonal changes become an involuntary period of reflection. This autumn season is no different from years gone by.

I think it is only natural; it’s instinctual.  In earlier times, people lived closer to the changes in the seasons because their survival depended upon it – cycles of planting and harvesting were paramount.

In this modern time, my planting period is working for two weeks and harvesting is collecting my bi-weekly paycheck.

When the hazy, warm summer days give way to cooler nights and the green trees turn to yellow and orange, I seem to suddenly wake up and take notice of the passage of time.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

I learned in kindergarten that the leaves change colors. The  teacher gave me crayons and mimeographed  (I’m showing my age here) sheets of leaf patterns. My classmates and I first sniffed them (LOL) and then colored them and cut them out with blunt nosed shears. Later, they were strung around the room on lines with clothes pins.

I think it was later – maybe in 10th grade earth science that more info was imparted:

“During the spring and summer the leaves have served as factories where most of the foods necessary for the tree’s growth are manufactured. This food-making process takes place in the leaf in numerous cells containing chlorophyll. This chlorophyll gives the leaf its green color.

But in the fall, because of changes in the length of daylight and changes in temperature, the leaves stop their food-making process. The chlorophyll breaks down, the green color disappears, and the yellow to orange colors become visible and give the leaves part of their fall splendor.

At the same time other chemical changes may occur, which form additional colors through the development of red anthocyanin pigments. Some mixtures give rise to the reddish and purplish fall colors of trees such as dogwoods and sumacs, while others give the sugar maple its brilliant orange.”[1]

Time may Change Me

I’ve been thinking about how I’m changing this year;  specifically the physical and mental changes this year has brought.  Certainly the circumstances of Covid, economy and environment have had their impact on us all.  

We are lucky that in the fall our hair doesn’t turn gray, fall out in winter and then sprout back up each spring.  How different would our sense of personal style change? 

I haven’t lost all my chlorophyll – there is still youth in this body of mine.  My mind too – there is so much left to learn about life, relationships and the world.  It is sometimes daunting, but also very exciting.

I Can’t Trace Time

I think I’ve been recognizing that the person I am in this minute is unique – not just because each of us is an individual – but because I will be a different person next year. Hell, maybe even next week. 

The song “Changes” by David Bowie has been running through my mind of late. “Changes” was originally released on the album Hunky Dory in December 1971 and as a single in January 1972. (I was four and a half years old) The lyrics are often seen as a manifesto for his chameleonic personality, the frequent change of the world today, and frequent reinventions of his musical style throughout the 1970s.[2] 

I’m reassured by Bowie in this – the fact that he was like a chameleon and changed his musical style and personal style and was somehow still his authentic self.  

Many times, you’ll see artists embrace one medium or subject or style of creating their art.  Marketing gurus and galleries will often strongly suggest that you create a brand in your body of work. However, when you are being authentic to your changeable self – there has to be some leeway given to this new, unique person you are becoming. I wrote about  my struggle with this in the post “Far Afield.”

Although trees in the autumn go dormant I’m going to forge ahead with my own changes.  I’ll be a whole new person in the spring when the trees renew their growth; I wonder who I’ll be?

“Changes”

David Bowie

Oh, yeah