Thursday, October 05, 2006


(Click on image to see full size)

The leaves are beginning to turn to their autumn colours. Soon there will be a profusion of reds, oranges and yellows. It will all be very beautiful. Then, suddenly, all the leaves will fall to the ground and the trees will be bare. Then it will snow and many of us will be knee-deep in slush.


Actually, if I can keep myself from thinking about autumn as a harbinger of winter, my least favourite season, I quite like it. Days are cooler. It's a great time to work outside. There is a fresh and crisp quality to the air. Pesky insects are mostly gone. It's great weather for riding.

The photograph above is my favourite autumn picture. I took it in October of 2003. It is of my brother Alfred riding Drifter, one of his horses, in a forested area of his farm. I deliberately moved the camera slightly to get that blurred effect and to give an exaggerated feeling of movement. It think it looks 'cool.'

Now, if only I can keep from thinking about the coming winter, and that, like the season, I am in the 'autumn of my years.' It's not like I really need any reminder of that!


  1. As far as Freud and Jung go.. and a few others.. this time of your life offers your greatest potential for health.. a time of individuation, continuing anxiety-free self-actualization and a welcomed homeostatis.

    I wonder why, though, it is that it is twenty years earlier than this that we are biologically best suited to bear children.. Wouldn't it be nice to raise children, when we are reaching past ego-centric behaviors and when we have a more relaxed, positive outlook and attitude.

    I suppose it's because having children, helps us realize our mortality, morality and extends our thinking, percepting and feeling beyond our selves.

    We raise them; they raise us.

    I love this picture. It's a little hard to look at, if I look close trying to see the particulars, but when I step back and view it, I am able to attain the sense of change, peace and peace from the hot, anxious pace of summer. I love autumn, too.

    I have to mention that it's midterms and so my comments (including the one I posted earlier, removed and never got back to), may show a little sleep-deprivation and lack of consistency or conciseness.

    Happy to read you during my breaks - love the photograph!

  2. Thanks, Penny. I became a father at age 47 and wonder how good a father I might have been in my twenties and thirties. Parents of whatever age tend to rise to the occasion, I guess, but I know that if I have limited patience today, twenty years ago I had virtually none.

    Now if only I could run and work like I could that long ago...

    Good luck on your midterms!

  3. I really like that picture. What a wonderful mood of freedom. I was wondering when you said "riding with my brother" in another post if you meant bikes or horses. It looks like great joy to share together. (I used to ride, and jump, but it's never been in my heart. Now, I just appreciate others who do.)

  4. My father was 42 when I was born and 47 when my brother was born. He's been a great man with so much life history and lessons to share. He's still sharp and knowledgable and working (despite a heartattack that left him with, now, 18% functioning heart) at 76. I'd never trade my old dad for a younger one. Not for double the life time spent would I trade double the life time taught. I am sure your son will feel the same. Patience is a great virtue - ensures the feeling of acceptance and safety within the home.

  5. Just a few good reasons to let all that "autumn of my life" stuff slip away into the rubbish bin where it belongs:
    I've had three neighbors - all well above 60 - who were just starting to enjoy life: One is a swinging single (67), one found the wife of his dreams in a retirement community where he and she will be treated like royalty (74) and the last is an award winning 84! Biblically speaking, we are assured somewhere between 70-120 years. It all depends on what you do with what you have. You cannot control the length of your life, but you can control its depth, and the ones that live deepest seem to live longest!
    The best is always yet to come!

  6. I have an uncle in British Columbia who will turn 97 on December 31. A great uncle of mine died just over a year ago at age 102. My dad was 94. They all lived useful and productive lives and my still-living uncle is still as sharp as a tack. He just doesn't hear very well. I love life, and hope to be blessed with many more years. But, as Galt points out, you can't control the length of your life, you can only make the best of what you have. I'm trying.