The poet John Keats famously described Autumn as the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” in his ode to Autumn, written early in the 19th century.
Waking up on the past few mornings I have been reminded that at the heart of Nature nothing really changes. Spiders’ webs still come out of hiding within the early mist; sparkling like diamonds as they hang, shimmering, in the hedgerow. Their beautiful, patient creators take pride of place in the centre, waiting for unaware crane flies – daddy-long-legs – to come dancing into the delicate, yet fatal mesh of silken threads.
There is nothing more breathtaking than to observe the late Sun hovering over the the fog-enshrouded downs, creating a mysterious otherworld, which somehow gives the impression that at any moment it could disappear forever, leaving the observer unsure of what they have witnessed.
Yew, Spindle, Hawthorn, Rose, Rowan, Elder and Bramble berries show us every shade of red at this time of year. Each has its own unique Spiritual gift, if only we have the courage to let go of preconceptions, and open ourselves up to the messages and healing they offer.
As I arranged the berried cuttings into the vases for the room where I hold my monthly Spiritual circle I was thinking of my dear friend, Rachel, who has a special affinity with Yew. The dark green foliage allowed the soft, red berries to stand out in the dusk. It was as if my friend’s essence was with us that night, reminding me that in the future, even if she may no longer be with us physically, or I may not hear her voice on the end of the phone, her spirit will always be close by.