And so it begins. My love hate relationship with autumn.
On one hand, sunsets are at their peak at this time of year. I can watch from the window in front of my writing desk as golden hour approaches and then the light dims, and the sky changes colour by the second, like a kaleidoscope. I jump up with my camera to capture the scene as the colours spread across clouds and clear sky and intensify on the spot where the sun finally disappears below the horizon.
I have my parents to thank for my sunset obsession. My father Ken, born into the farming life was, secretly, a frustrated architect. He designed and built the new “Big House” on the farm to contain the growing boisterous family, that were bubbling out of the seams of the tiny cottage we were living in.
The new house had some bold mid-century modern features that were always a talking point when we had visitors. Exposed beams, large open plan living areas, and a pretty funky kitchen design, to name a few. But the highlight was the huge west facing picture window above the fireplace. A cylindrical flue, (possibly made of asbestos, but lets not go there) sat outside the window in full view in a brutalist style, but faded from sight as we looked out over the farm to the Western Tiers and the skies beyond.
Whilst my father created the original design, it was my mother Lesley, who would always encourage us to take advantage of it.
“Everyone get up now and admire the sunset!” She’d call out from the kitchen, which shared the same westerly view as the living room, only separated by some cupboards that looked as if they were floating in space.
I can’t promise that my young brain, so spoilt by the natural beauty of the Tasmanian countryside around me, felt the same level of appreciation as I do today. But the fact remains, that of my childhood memories, this is one of the strongest, several decades later. I frequently echo the sentiments of my Mother, trying to rouse a household of screen watchers to get up and look at the sunset.
Autumn in the hills is undoubtedly the most visually gorgeous of seasons. The changing colours of the leaves of liquid ambers, flame trees and many varieties of Japanese maples, mimic the oranges, reds, pinks and yellows of the ever changing evening skies. Each year I’m happy to see the sudden arrival, as if by magic, of deep red Virginia Creeper, climbing through the trees.
Cool mornings, warm afternoons and mild evenings are a gardener’s delight. So the slight sadness and regret of the annual chopping back the perennials and ornamental grasses, is tempered by ideal gardening weather and dreams of what might get moved, added to or relegated for next spring.
So, what could I possibly not like about the autumn, you wonder?
It’s nothing in the physical world which is all beautiful. It’s more of a somatic nature. The disappointment that summer is ending so soon and the slight sinking feeling brought on by the inevitability of the encroaching winter. The time of darkness, cold, rain, less walks, less gardening and freezing nights and mornings. As the Beatles said “a long cold lonely winter.” (Yes, I can hear my European and American friends laughing hysterically at this description. But shoosh, it’s all relative.)
I vow to enjoy these easy days of early autumn, as I sit writing with my door to the balcony open next to me, still wearing my summer pjs, and marvelling at the beauty of nature. Now is when we get the best of both worlds. Husband man and the munchkin are already obsessed with the football. And me, I’m already obsessed with my autumn sunsets.
Amanda Gambas Author 