Season of Change

I’ve often made the assertion that people tend to have rather short memories when it comes to weather. When faced with an early fall, a late winter, a wetter-than-normal spring, or some other apparently aberrant manifestation of climate, people will claim to not have any memory of such an event in the past.

I must now admit to this myself.

I was quite dismayed to have a friend point out that a patch of leaves in one of my maple trees has begun to change colour already. I was horrified that such a harbinger of fall should arrive so early.

A quick perusal of Environment Canada’s Climate Data Online shows that it is not at all unusual for this to be happening, although the onset of colour-change in the leaves may be a just touch early this year.

Interestingly, the record maximum temperature for August was 36.8°C, recorded in 1947, while the record low temperature was a mere -3.8°C, recorded two years earlier. There is even a notation of there being a trace of snow that same August.

Typically, however, August is a transitional month, with warm days and cool nights. It’s always been one of my favourite months.

Perhaps my own perception of the timing of the seasons has been skewed by the time I spent living in Southern Ontario. I spent three summers working in the London area before moving to the GTA for four years, and then to the Hamilton area for an additional four.

While only a few hundred kilometres further south, the seasons there do have a slightly different schedule than here. Interestingly enough, the change of seasons there tend to happen when the calendar says they should.

Of course Labour Day is heralded as the end of summer, although officially fall doesn’t begin until about the 21st of September. In this respect our perception is biased by the end of summer vacation and the return to school.

I have, in the past, taken vacation in the middle of September. It is quite enjoyable: there are few crowds to contend with, traffic — other then during commuting times — is lighter, and the weather is usually still pleasant enough.

October brings us the full palate of autumn colour, with frosty mornings and cool but pleasant days. I’m not sure that everyone appreciates the spectacle of the fall colours. I once dated a girl who lived in Sylvan Valley, behind Echo Bay. When I commented on the beauty of the fall colours there she said, "They’re just leaves."

When I was working at the hotel we often had to explain to walk-ins why there were no vacancies, not only at our hotel but at almost every hotel in the city: tourists here to see the colours and take the tour train. Quite a few people expressed their astonishment that tourists would drive to the Sault in late September and early October "Just to see leaves?"

For me, although I know that the changing of the leaves will soon be followed by the onset of winter, I never tire of seeing the colour.

I have three maples in my yard, the leaves of one which develops particularly spectacular shade of orange-red, and the others varying shades of red and yellow. (I should mention that I much prefer seeing these leaves while still on the tree. I’m much less chuffed with the notion of having to rake them up off the ground!)

I find the sight of the hills surrounding the City changing into a panorama of reds, oranges and yellows, interspersed with the dark green of the occasional coniferous tree to be simply breath-taking. I find walking along a forest trail in the autumn, with leaves gently fluttering to the ground and footsteps muffled by the carpet of fallen leaves, to be remarkably uplifting.

While I can explain the colour change in scientific terms, I none-the-less find it to be miraculous!

Next to fall, I would consider spring to be my favourite season. When I see the trees begin to show the faintest blush of green it is as though I am waking from a long slumber. I feel as though I, too, am emerging from dormancy and, as the trees burst forth into full leaf I, too, am filled with new life and new energy.

I enjoy seeing the first crocuses and daffodils poking from the ground, to be followed by all the other flowers in the garden and on the trees.

As Spring becomes Summer, and more flowers and shrubs begin to bloom, and fruit begins to grow on the trees, I am amazed at the paradox of nature: at once an astounding complexity and yet, utter simplicity. It is so easy to take it all for granted.

Winter, alas, is my least favourite season. When I was much younger I enjoyed it much more.

I can remember heading out to play on a Saturday morning, coming back in the house only long enough to bolt down some lunch, and then heading back out until dusk. Even as a teen and young adult I would enjoy skiing and tobogganing and other activities.

Somehow, though, as I grow older I find myself less tolerant of the cold and more affected by the shorter days. Still, I can’t say that I hate winter, just that it is my least favourite of the four seasons.

I certainly find it breath-taking to look out across a field of fresh fallen snow, sparkling like diamonds in the sun, streaked with the blue shadows of trees, their branches laden with cotton-like mounds of snow. I find a moonlit vista in shades of blue and indigo, with a swath of sparkling snow to be quite beautiful.

I will admit that I would be quite happy if winter began shortly before Christmas and faded into Spring just after New Years. I could even settle for a winter that lasted from mid-December to mid-February.

I have, over the years, given thought to moving somewhere where there is no winter, or at least a very short, mild winter. Most any place that fits that description, though, has drawbacks of its own: tornadoes, hurricanes, unbearable heat in the summer, floods, earthquakes, tsunami, etc.

All in all, I have to say that the climate here in the Sault, and in most of Ontario, is generally quite agreeable. After forty-six years, the pattern of the change of seasons is deeply ingrained, and I might not so easily to adapt to relocating somewhere that has a different pattern and schedule.

Fall must be coming… I just watched a flock of geese land in the school yard down the road, and now that the light fog has lifted, the sunlight is highlighting more patches of leaves which have begun to change.

Spring might be the season of new life, but Fall is definitely the season of change.

For me, there are many changes occurring this fall. I've sold my house, and am moving to Thunder Bay to attend school. After that... who knows?

I'll just have to wait and see.