Finding the joys of fall
Shorter days and colder weather doesn’t have to make us SAD
Seasonal affective disorder is afoot as we move into fall, but we can fight this type of depression by taking action. Cool weather and less sunlight evokes hibernation. That’s great for groundhogs, but for people, it means lack of essential Vitamin D. This exposes us to things that affect, not only our physical health, but also our well-being, making us susceptible to ill temper and illness. So, as the trees release their leaves and the thermometer begins to drop, it’s time to take action in two ways. First, spend time outdoors and second, spend time with friends. Even better, bundle the two together.
A ticker tape parade of leaves can mesmerize one to retreat into comfortable indoor settings. That’s OK. But even a grey morning under a cool downy sky has light, air and the freedom of movement in space to offer. Retreat indoors, after going for a sidewalk stroll, or a walk in the woods or a hike together with friends. Trust that tea tastes better after fresh air and social time with someone whose company you enjoy.
Just because the days of summer lie dormant, doesn’t mean submitting to a long winter’s nap.
Let the light of day shine on your face and consider the loss of Vitamin D which begins to plummet when autumn arrives.
Those animals, who do not fatten up and hunker down, seem to understand the power of this wisdom. This prescription of movement and light is crucial. This information resides in our own DNA where the spark of instinct to survive darker days reminds that we’re animals, too. Along with food and water, we need light, movement and to be in the presence of one another. These things
protect us and help us to thrive.
On this particularly cloudy morning, crickets sound from where the lawn furniture was folded up days ago and stored indoors. Silver green sage and pink and blue petunias along with yellow roses and red roses make their last stand before frost. I wait for a friend to join me for a daily walk. The wind picks up and a cacophony of golden beech showers down in a confetti of leaves, a burst of applause at the coming outdoor show, even as the clouds sug
gest rain.
I recall the last monarch two weeks ago, fluttering and fueling up in the purple clover by the orange nasturtium, and the Queen Ann’s lace, and the tall flea bane, before it made its incredible journey to Mexico where the weight of millions of migrating butterflies can actually break branches. The idea of it breaks my want to slow down in fall and urges me to keep moving and keep my connections with friends going strong.
Sweet wood smoke from a
neighboring chimney mixes with syrupy wafts of maple leaves, the nutty aroma of oaks and butternuts, and the mossy wintergreen of birches signifying a jump start of the spirit as fall swings closer to winter.
The sound of my friend’s Subaru pulling into the drive leaves the thought of things slowing down, like woods frogs burrowing into the mud and thawing in spring, in its place. Now is the time for brisk walks and morning talks to fire us up and roll us along. We greet each other with cheery embrace and then set out up the dirt road, climbing the hill amidst a gentle spritz, delightful for its cool playfulness as we build up heat with each step. The light is dimensional and takes on a hue that photographers seek.
We crest the first rise and consider turning back for the threat of rain, but decide to press on. The trees seem to breathe right along with us, bordering a sloping field they’re softened by a coming rain obscuring hills and mountains.
We stop to take in the landscape, more an artist’s painting, and plan to pick Hawthorne berries after sharing a bit of gossip. We talk about harvesting what’s left of our gardens, mint and oregano, plants which can be dried for seasoning and teas and enjoyed throughout the colder months.
As we like to, we stop for a selfie. SAD is at bay and we plan to keep it that way by getting outdoors daily. And that’s when nature herself seems to want in on our plan of resistance to things dark and stuck as she draws our gaze to a rainbow. Her banded apparition, it’s form refracting in gemmed brilliance, is a confirmation of the gifts we can give to ourselves when we remember to step into the light and move with friends.
Bonnie J. Toomey’s stories, essays, and poems have been featured in Baystateparent Magazine, New Hampshire Parents Magazine, Baystateparent Echo, Penwood Review and Solace in a Book. She worked as an adjunct at Plymouth State University in New Hampshire where she earned a master’s in literacy. She writes about life in the 21st century and lives in New Hampshire with her husband. Learn more at www.thedeepbeautybook.com/ writers-2/bonnie-j-toomey