A Man For All Seasons...

I think it’s fair to say that we tend to think about colour when we think of autumn. Colour is always with us, so presumably as green leaves turn to red, it is the contrast – striking and beautiful – that gains our attention. Pumpkins and squash appear in supermarkets with their intense reds and oranges. Berries appear on trees with similar fiery colours. Lawns and pavements turn brown and red with fallen leaves. Some people like to ‘kick against the pricks’, I prefer kicking autumn leaves along the street. Pure therapy. I retain a memory – from so long ago that I don’t know when it was – of being knee-deep in leaves and kicking them along Kelvin Way in Glasgow’s West End.

Yet, actually, all seasons, when you think about it, are about colour. In spring, we’re grateful for any colour that appears. Pink blossom, for example, always thrills. In summer it’s green as the trees burst into bloom. It’s warm sunsets, it’s fruit and flowers on trees. Even winter has colours, usually grey, but frosty whites and crisp blue skies, ideally. There’s a fine film called A Man for All Seasons. It’s based on a book about Thomas More. In case you don’t know, Thomas More was a mate of Henry the Eighth, until Henry decided to have his head chopped off. I always liked the title. I suspect it might be ironic. More was a principled man. I like to think of myself as a man for all seasons though in a more literal way. I like the four seasons of our climate. I also like Frankie Valli’s band, the music by Vivaldi (well, a little) and the pizza too. However, let’s stick to the topic. I love autumn and its aforementioned colours and atmosphere. Equally evocative are the first misty mornings, the first cold evenings when you can see your breath, the melancholy and wistful call of the Robin red breast at night. All of these are special. They can’t entirely take away the loss of summer but you have to embrace the changes. Be a man or woman for all seasons, literally and metaphorically, if you can manage. I’m trying that.

            It is, thus, with a certain pleasure and a certain amusement that my garden remains partly dominated by summer colours. The weather’s been pretty good, it is a sun trap, and there’s not been much rain, so certain flowers remain in bloom and the colours are stubbornly representative of summer. Purples, yellows, pinks, whites and blues. Red from the few tomatoes, which is definitely a summer red. The yellow rose is in amazing shape. Literally reaching out to touch the sky. The stubbornness of nature is wonderful, despite autumn being undoubtedly in the ascendancy. There’s even still the odd bee, and the odd wasp flying around. Stubbornness is actually unfair, it has a negative sense. Let’s credit her with a Quaker-like discipline. Let’s say ‘strike while the iron is hot’, ‘make hay while the sun shines’, even “when ze cat’s away, Mister Fawlty” to quote Mrs Peignoir. Nature once again remains an inspiration and a teacher.