This evening’s walk was the sort of lonely, forlorn, melancholic
affair that seems only to happen at this time of year. There was no traffic on
any of the lanes, and no sound of any sort save for the stiff breeze that
rattled the trees and agitated the long grass on the fields. The sky across the
valley was painted pink, grey and light blue, with raggedy bunches of slate and
untidy wisps of white.
What made it singular, though, was the sense of something
missing. The earth energies are falling slowly into slumber now. September is
the twilight of the seasons, and the twilight of the day is when the
encroaching torpor is most keenly felt. And felt it most certainly is; it’s
palpable; it’s where the melancholy comes from; it’s all about saying ‘goodnight’
to the land and its bounty, and wondering whether you’ll still be here when it
wakes up again. I’ve been feeling this every September since I first moved to
the countryside all those years ago. Maybe it’s why I have such a soft spot for
April.
6 comments:
Beautifully expressed, Jeff.
Do you know what it reminds me of, Shay? Putting my little girl to bed when she was a young child. When the nursery rhymes were all sung, and the soft toys gathered, and the night-nights said, and the light switched off... I always felt sad, you know? Being denied her delightful company until the next day.
How are you, Shay? Lovely to hear from you. Hope you're cool in a kaftan down there in sunny Bel-Air (or wherever.)
Beautiful post, even if melancholy.
I often feel like that after Liam is asleep at night. Sometimes i'm so tired that i'm looking forward to his bed time but then once he's asleep i feel like i don't know what to do with myself. SOmetimes we look at old pics of him, at how tiny he was, because we miss him while he sleeps and they make me want to go into his room and give him a big squeeze.
There's nothing quite like the love of a parent for his/her child. Sometimes it hurts. I remember the day I got a phone call at work to tell me my daughter had gone missing. It was the only time in my life that I experienced true panic. I couldn't speak - literally. (She was OK; she'd just gone into a neighbour's house without telling anybody.)
September is melancholy but October seems to make up for it. Have you ever thought you might have Seasonal Affect disorder?
Actually, Wendy, I quite like September as a whole. It's just at twilight when the shortening days are first becoming really noticeable, and then there's the first feeling of nature going to sleep. When it's warm and mellow during the day, September can be quite pleasant. October is more colourful,of course, and I suppose we're used to the changes by then.
I have suspected I might be a little afflicted by SAD, but that comes later - usually between November and February.
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