Autumn Equinox: Fruiting and Fading

Words by Mark Sparrow

Hello friends,

We are rapidly approaching the autumn equinox which, in the northern hemisphere, marks the end of summer and the beginning of autumn. This year this singular day falls on 22 September when, at 2.30pm, the sun will illuminate the northern and southern hemispheres equally; giving us night and day of exactly the same length before we tip once more into a season of greater darkness than light, longer nights than days. What’s more, it also brings only the second day of the year on which the sun rises and sets exactly due east and west. For me, this is a day to savour, a single day of near-perfect astronomical balance, which invites us to marvel at our planet’s unique place in the universe and to wonder at the perfection which is all too fleeting.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

Here on the farm, it seems that John Keats’ words could not be more apposite. Chilly mornings of mist in the valley give way to brilliant warm sunshine which gleams on hedgerows and orchards bursting with crops. The apple trees are bowed with fruit that will see us munching crisp apples to the winter solstice and beyond. The hedgerows are thick with bruised purple sloes, ruddy hawthorn berries, auburn rose-hips and the deeply dark black of elder and bramble berries which will feed the wild residents of the farm throughout the coming season and become syrups, tinctures, chutneys and jams to stock our winter cupboards. The oak trees are laden with green acorns. Conkers are beginning to peek from their spiny cases. Robins are singing heartily from eaves and tree branches as they squarely stake their winter territory. Hedgehogs munch and scuttle through the windfalls and scrub and, even now, the hazel has tight buds which promise next year’s leaves. 

And yet, a touch of transition hangs in the air. There is a sense that these are indeed the last days of summer. The light disappears ever earlier each evening. The leaves are blotched with yellow as the trees draw their sugars back to conserve them for the cold ahead. At dusk, we wonder whether this will be the last time we see the swallows dip and glide overhead this year. The ivy blossom will be the last flower of the year for the bees to feed on. I fear whether the ash trees are losing their leaves for the year or whether they are succumbing to die-back and are losing them forever. 

This is a fruiting, fading time of year. A time to relish the plenty, celebrate the harvest, warm ourselves in the sun whilst readying ourselves, storing what we need, preparing the ground for the winter and the dark to come. 

An equinox invitation

In these turbulent days, so much calls our attention. We may feel we have less energy and yet still more to do. Demands increase as resources diminish. Personal challenges and overwhelming local, national, global situations may cause us to lose hope of managing to accomplish anything at all. But, this equinox, can I invite you to allow this time of our planet’s balance to bring your attention back to a point of balance in yourself and in the world around you? Could you allow this day to be one where you reflect on the fruiting and the fading in yourself and in the world and to open your heart, even for a day, to the wonder and the weakness of the Earth?

The equinox presents us with a wonderful opportunity to do this, none better than at dawn and dusk. At those moments, the seemingly opposing forces of night and day are united by the transition wrought by the rising and setting of the sun. These are magical moments to be outside, creating a liminal space in which we can reflect and respond to the seemingly divergent forces of fruiting and fading in ourselves and in our world. What’s more at this time of year, it is relatively easy to be outside at both daybreak and twilight. The sun will rise at 6.50am and set again at 6.50pm so be outside a little before this time in the morning and for a little longer in the evening and watch as night becomes day and night responds again 12 hours later.

So, sitting outside, let your thoughts dwell on your inner world for a while. Think about the summer past and the winter to come, maybe you could use the flow of your breath to focus your reflections. As you breathe in, bring to mind what is fading in you, what requires rest now, where you long for nurture and comfort. Don’t strain as you do this, be kind to yourself. As you breathe out, notice what has fruited for you over the summer, what has brought joy, where you have expended your energies. As the in-breath returns, give a thought to what hasn’t gone so well and then, as you breathe out again, what you need to do in order to prepare the ground and sow seeds for next year. See if you can hold these seemingly opposing ideas together – the celebration of all that has been accomplished, the willingness to let them wane.

Now, bring your attention to your immediate surroundings. Wherever you are, be it garden or park; in the depths of the countryside or sitting looking at a city street, notice what is happening in the natural world. As you breathe in note the signs of autumn’s approach – the leaves, the light, the colours, the temperature. As you breathe out, see if you can observe the fruit of all that summer warmth and sunlight – the berries, the flowers, a wasp feasting on late sugars, the lingering heat. Again, is it possible to be with both – the richness of summer and the dwindling of autumn? 

Finally, as we have been using the Earth as our inspiration, can we allow our thoughts to expand further still and take in the whole of our planet at this fleeting moment. With your in-breath picture the leaves falling from trees throughout the northern hemisphere; the vast migrations of birds to warmer, sunnier places; the light fading to near-constant darkness in the Arctic. And, then, with your out-breath let your thoughts wander to the southern hemisphere where the plants are budding, the birds are arriving from their long flights and the midnight sun will shine on the Antarctic. The whole of our planet, the human and the more-than-human, stand at this tipping point today, all together for a day, perfectly in balance.

Now, let your thoughts settle back just where you are. Notice the light and the smells and the temperature around you. Perhaps allow a smile to yourself, a moment to enjoy the fruiting and the fading.

With kind equinox wishes

Mark

Postscript - Seamus Heaney
And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you’ll park and capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.

Mark Sparrow is a trained counsellor, Ecopsychologist and passionate advocate of life in harmony in Nature. You can find out more about him and his practice over at https://www.marksparrowcounselling.co.uk/.

Mark also runs Angel Cottage Organics at the beautiful Haddon Copse Farm in Dorset with his partner Tom. Find out more about the farm, including a number of courses that make the most of the stunning natural landscape by going to www.angelcottageorganics.co.uk

Recently on Balance Garden