My friend J loves the summer; even with all of its heat and humidity, she relishes it. So when the cooler, shorter days of autumn begin, and she finds herself turning on the heat that first really cold evening, she grumbles about it. For her, summer’s lease indeed is far too short. I myself do not mind the summer, though I am not a fan of heat and humidity. But it is autumn I love, even with its shorter days–rising in the dark morning and driving home in the dark evening, and the cooling days brings an end to some of summer’s peskier problems. Like those little red ants that I’ve battled with all summer.
I first experienced the ant invasion last summer and received a variety of suggestions from friends across the country about how to handle them. From the outright slaughter spraying them with Raid or some other toxic treatment to all natural supposed ant repellants, it has been an ongoing struggle. I had to laugh when one of my former meditation teachers smilingly encouraged me not to kill them while another said when you’ve tried to be patient and humane and that’s not working, the ants have to go. I ended up somewhere in the middle, using a messy mixture of baby powder, cinnamon, and cayenne pepper outlining the perimeter of my kitchen counters and on the edges of my shelves in the cabinets. It worked a bit better last year; perhaps I’ve created a cayenne-resistant strain of ants or something. These buggers were not much slowed down. BUT, autumn is coming and after that winter, and I can wipe away the traces of the dried concoction off of the counters until next June when the ants reappear.
Such are the seasons of life: our days, our year, our lifetimes follow the ancient cycles and rhythms in very much the same ways as our ancestors did. The earth revolves around the sun, the seasons change and with them we change as well. Our lives mirror the changing seasons. I am well into the autumn of my life and headed into winter. In some traditions, each of the four seasons and the four cardinal directions are also associated with times of life. The East represents springtime and early childhood, the South is summertime and adolescence, the West is autumn and adulthood, and the North is winter, elderhood and transition into the next life.
The autumn is the season of harvest, of looking back over all that we have done over the course of the past year–the seeds planted in spring and tended throughout the summer–and harvesting the fruits of our labors. It moves us toward winter, a time of pulling in, withdrawing, hibernating, and introspection. It brings a cessation of external growth–the leaves dry up and fall to the ground and plants on the surface appear to “die” and turn in on themselves and go fallow. But under the surface of the earth energy reserves are being built up and stored, waiting to provide life and sustenance for plants in the spring.
I am grateful for each season of the year, as well as the seasons of my life. I am glad to be moving into my role as elder and a time of asking myself questions, of turning inward and seeking answers. Perhaps summer’s lease is too short for some, but for me the timing is just right. I’ll look forward to the departure of the ants, say goodbye to “sun tea” for the season, and look forward to carmel apples, hot tea or cider, football and other harbingers of autumn. And for the many blessings in my life through each season, I remain exceedingly grateful.
