Each morning I open the curtains in the kids’ rooms and take stock of the front yard below. This morning, unlike all other mornings in the preceding weeks, I noticed a yellow swell of cherry leaves had gathered on the front walk. It looked like Autumn.
It would be a little too on the nose to imagine that the trees knew today is the Autumnal Equinox, the exact day that the trees are supposed to start dropping their leaves. And yet, there were the gathering leaves.
Of course we recognize the Equinox on the calendar because it represents this specific turning - it’s the moment when the days start being shorter than night. The trees respond to this change by ceasing to make chlorophyl, which transforms the leaves from green to gold and red, causing them to drop. No wonder I’m noticing this at this particular time.
But also there’s something to the fact that I first saw them today, on this day, because the Equinox was on my mind. I subconsciously expected to see them. I was prepared to notice.
After all, Autumn is the season for noticing. While the trees are releasing their leaves and the vegetables in the garden give up their fruits, it’s also the time for us humans to slow down and let go. It’s the time to release the frenzy of relentless doing and let that outward energy give way to a quiet grounding. It’s a chance to remind ourselves where we are. It’s a time to notice.
Yesterday I went on a pilgrimage of noticing with my 13 year old son. He’s an avid birder and as a birder it’s his job to take notice all year long. He’s trained himself to see the winged creatures that flit in the trees above and how the pattern of visits changes throughout the year. He has an uncanny ability to notice, to discern the differences between their calls, and then once a positive ID is made, to stand there, head tilted back in pureness of gratitude for being in their presence.
Right now, at this time of year in North Carolina, it’s warbler season. This is when these migratory wonders move from their summer vacation up north toward their winter residence in the tropics. It feels so improbable that these tiny, colorful birds not only endure such an incredible journey but seem to thrive in it, with their joyful song and treetop dance. (We saw Cape May warblers, American redstarts, and black and white warblers, in case you want to know.)
As I walked along, trying to step lightly so as not to get shushed, I almost had to laugh to myself at the revelation of seeing all these brilliant birds. I’ve watched birds casually since I myself was 13, and I already knew plenty of species. But to go birding with my son, to slow down and tune in to what he sees, is to open myself into another world and another way of being in the world.
What he’s really teaching me when he wakes me up to the presence of these warblers, is how abundant the world can be when we allow ourselves to see it.
Abundance. Do we see the world as abundant? How often in our culture do we just stop and marvel at the abundance all around us? More often, we see what is missing and long for what we don’t have. Even in the world of environmental activism, we’re clued into what we’re losing, but forget to see the abundance of beauty and life that is still within our sights.
I’d like to let this Autumn season be a time for noticing the abundance… to see nature’s never-ending wonders, to savor the fruits and flowers from my garden, to recognize what an incredible gift it is to have a 13 year old wise man to show me the way.
What are you noticing on this Autumnal Equinox? Where is your abundance?