Autumn is Falling

“And all at once summer collapsed into fall.” – Oscar Wilde

This morning, when Beaumont and I took our early morning walk along the river, a thin layer of frost-tipped dew covered the ground.

Autumn is falling.

Leaves are turning.

Geese are flying south.

In the northern hemisphere, we are orbiting away from the sun.

It happens every year. Days grow shorter, shadows grow longer as the sun’s rays lengthen. And though the nights have been growing longer since June’s Summer Solstice, evidence of our turning away from the sun grows stronger with the approach of the autumnal equinox.

This will be our second autumn under Covid’s thrall. As I look back over the past 18 months I am in awe of our human capacity to adapt, to shift, to do what we never imagined possible, what we never imagined would be necessary.

Stay home. Keep our distance from one another. Wear a mask. Sanitize everything. Avoid touch. Get a vaccine.

As I look back I see the toll it has taken on everyone around the world. It has been devastating.

In my extended family, a cousin lost her life to the virus. Others sickened and recovered. An aunt far away and all alone, was unable to leave her apartment for over a year and no one was able to visit. Vacations cancelled. Family reunions postponed. Children growing up at home with little interaction with playmates and schoolmates. Parents stressed with jobs and working at home and caring for children who are underfoot all day and all night long.

And still, there is joy. There is laughter. There is love.

As autumn falls, our numbers here in Alberta are rising with dizzying speed. More hospitalizations, more people in ICUs than at any other time during the pandemic. And the death count climbs as hospitals become overwhelmed with the influx of people needing care.

Yesterday, provincial leadership finally announced increased restrictions to try to bend the curve. Many fear too little, too late.

I fear more lives will be lost. More anger will rise as those who decry restrictions clash with those who are in favour.

For my beloved and I, hunkering down and limiting outside contact has once again become our norm. Double vaccinated, he is still at higher risk should he catch the virus. It’s not worth taking chances.

And as autumn colours grow brighter and birds fly south, I remind myself that, as with all things, all seasons, all times, this too shall pass.

My responsibility isn’t to change the viruses course, I am not that powerful. What I am powerful enough to do is the right things so that its sphere of influence in my life and those around me is as limited as possible. And while it was nice to feel for awhile like I could go outside and meet with friends and do the things I love without worrying about an invisible microbe’s presence, like autumn leaves turning, reality settles in as I once again come to grips with the fact there is a microbe of devastating impact in our midst. I can’t see it. I can’t change it but I can accept, with as much grace as possible, that I can do everything in my power to limit its spread and impact.

And that is what I must do as autumn leaves fall.

I can’t change the season’s turning. I can change how I dress to keep myself warm on frost-covered mornings.

I can’t change the virus. I can change how I behave to stop its spread.

26 thoughts on “Autumn is Falling

  1. It has been a tough ride for so many. We are all affected in some way, shape or form. It’s so disheartening. I wish people would just buck up and get the d*** shot already. Excluding those who have truly valid reasons, of course.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Louise, I was thinking very much like you as I walked yesterday morning. The first day I noticed golden leaves raining down. It has been a long time living a restricted life as far as social togetherness are concerned.
    Your post is both gentle and strong as you put your feelings across. I agree with all you
    say. May wisdom and sense prevail and all understand what is best for us all.


    Liked by 1 person

  3. “I can’t see it. I can’t change it but I can accept, with as much grace as possible, that I can do everything in my power to limit its spread and impact.” So wise and so compassionate , Louise. Would that more people embraced this line of thinking. Sadly, the virus is raging here in Florida, too, outstripped in its pace only by the rampant dis- and misinformation some misguided individuals continue to spread. So disheartening….😥

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Foggy mist lifts gently.
    Sun’s warmth filters through leaves,
    Tips lightly tinted with colour.
    Not a cloud in sight,
    Look up to bright blue skies, ah.
    I revel in the silence of the morn.
    Nip in the air as clubs placed in car.
    Perfection shattered by news,
    Covid’s insidious tentacles ever there.

    Humans are not so smart after all.
    Actions for the “good of the collective”
    Trump “the rights of the individual”.
    Wake up!

    Note- concept of “good for the collective vs. rights of the individual” was used WW II. It worked then, why not today?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Well… if nothing else… I hope your golf game was lots of fun!

      And yes — it is a great concept — timeless in its truth.

      I am always so inspired when you share your beautiful poetry — thank you my friend. ❤


  5. Wow. You balance this post so beautifully. Fall. A fall from summer, a fall from grace, a fall from “normal” and a fall from taking care of all, not just one. Yes, those of us vaccinated are frustrated with those who want their “freedom.” We all desire freedom from the fear of catching the dreaded virus. I dread fall, as beautiful as it is, because I know it means winter is ahead. And I dread the winter that may cause more illness and death. May we all fall into each other’s metaphorical arms and take care of all. It only makes sense, so all can enjoy a renewing spring in the future.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I am falling with you Pam — let us fall with compassion into understanding that those who do not get vaccinated are as fearful as us — and are expressing their fears in the only way they know how.

      And I struggle with that one because I really, really want this over!

      And I breathe and remind myself to send blessings for all — Bless them. Forgive me. Forgive them. Bless me… Bless them. Forgive me. Forgive them. Bless me…. I repeat it often!

      Thank you Pam. Hugs.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. A friend spoke about this too today. He said: Our lives have become slower, we have more time (’cause we can’t do everything we used to do, no customer visits, no trips to far away places, less work, less pay, no leisure activities). And then he hit us with the question: And what have we been doing with that time? Have we used it wisely?
    I wondered if I have ‘only’ slowed down or if the pandemic has made me a better person….

    Liked by 1 person

    • I think you are a beautiful person, with or without the pandemic Kiki.
      I think… for me… the pandemic time has been both a blessing and a challenge. It comes tinged with fear and angst as well as space and beauty and courage.
      Ultimately, the more grace I give myself for both using wisely and not so wisely this time, the more compassionate, content and whole I feel.

      Thank you for your beautiful comment, your presence and your friend’s question. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

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