The Joys of Fall: Robert Frost and the Beauty of Autumn

While summer is passing, there are joys in fall. The world speeds by, constant interest in its speed, but there is also interest, as fall comes on, in watching the seasons pass, looking toward October and making Indian Summer last.

Lots of writers pen autumn prose, thinking of fall as summer ending. Some think beyond a setting sun, and Robert Frost is one. There are leaves to be raked, harvest festivals coming, jams to put up, apples for baking into pies, pumpkins needing carving, laughter in all   eyes.

As seasons change, we watch leaves go from apple green to saffron, then banana yellow, some tangerine, some strawberry red, a few magenta, even fuchsia until at last released, brown and dead. True, one season ends, another starts, but to me there is freshness there, newness in the air.

While Robert Frost was solemn, even somber on occasion, he could also showcase mirth and humor.  He looked for positivity in change – in a rebuilt wall, first snow, horse ending to go. In fall, he saw newness and a certain sense of whimsy. Here is one of his less read poems, October (1913).

In this short bit of verse, there is a celebration of change, of the coming season, and its joys.

“O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.”

Every season has its strengths, and each succeeds another. If they stayed the same, it would be a shame – as the turning would be lost. Cooler days for a masterwork seems a very little cost, for the canopy of color, until wind tossed.