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A walk in Autumn

It rained heav­i­ly dur­ing the night until the ear­ly hours of the morn­ing. Autumn took pos­ses­sion of the clock. To say that a new cycle is begin­ning would be lying. If there has been a begin­ning, it dates from a few years ago to the pow­er of bil­lions. I don’t real­ly know the num­ber. It seems that, accord­ing to the cal­cu­la­tions of physi­cists, the uni­verse will one day end, not in an incred­i­ble cat­a­clysm, but rather with an eter­ni­ty of elapsed time.

This sea­son is not to be com­pared to that, but since it is my favorite, my heart absorbs it like a leaf melts docile­ly into the cel­lu­lose of dead bark.

I like to take my vaca­tion in the fall. I say it every year, I feel good in the rip­pling light of the pas­sage to the silence of win­ter, as if sum­mer, know­ing that it is dying, is enjoy­ing one last time, and proud­ly, its vitality.

Yes, the col­ors are beau­ti­ful, start­ing with that yel­low so com­ple­men­tary to the greenery.

Tak­ing advan­tage of a lull in both clouds and rain, I decid­ed to go for a walk, start­ing with the small park near my house where I don’t often set foot any­more. Because of COVID or because it’s the mid­dle of the week, few peo­ple were walk­ing there. The park hasn’t real­ly changed in years. It has enough space to not run into any­one and has a small curved walk­way that you can walk through for three or four thoughts.

I lat­er joined the Saint-Sulpice wood­land. Despite a noisy avenue flank­ing one of its sides, the place man­ages to remain calm. Sev­er­al con­vo­lut­ed paths run through it. They are sim­ple dry­land trails. Trees live and die there with­out the appear­ance of human inter­ven­tion. Branch­es fall, trunks split, mush­rooms take advan­tage of it.

The wood­ed area is not very large ; one quick­ly cross­es it. We imme­di­ate­ly regret find­ing the cement of a side­walk. I turned around a few times to immerse myself in the qui­et and humid smell of the paths, lis­ten­ing to the buzzing of insects – or was it amphib­ians ? – I lost myself among the asym­met­ri­cal bod­ies of the veg­e­ta­tion that gives up, observ­ing the one that per­sists, and signs the sum­mer green, wit­ness­ing that what dies is absorbed by what is alive.

This nature is a lit­tle bit the same every­where. The sea­son resem­bles the one we liked so much the year before. Let it be so. What makes life sacred is that we are giv­en the priv­i­lege to feel its warmth in our veins, to sense the rhythm of the sea­sons through the slow­ing down of our heart­beat while the uni­verse patient­ly starts over again.

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Tags:fall

Comments

  • Normand Sénéchal

    Normand Sénéchal 2020/09/30 20:26 0

    Toujours un plaisir de te lire Guy. Et tes photos sont magnifiques! Toutes en contrastes!
    L'automne est aussi ma saison préféré, je suis né fin Octobre, il y a surement un lien.
    Je ne me réjouis toutefois pas de l'arrivée du froid, mais quelle belle lumière ambrée, oblique, crépusculaire.
    L'automne provoque chez moi une introspection créative, connecte le viscéral à l'éphémère, je sens comme une urgence tranquille.

  • admin

    admin 2020/10/03 12:42 0

    Bonjour cher Normand,

    Content que le billet et les photos t'ont plu. Bien que j'ai une préférence certaine pour l'automne, le fait d'avoir promené des chiens pendant une quinzaine d'années m'a un peu immunisé de la température!

    Bises.

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