Reflections from the Red Kayak
“The leaves are perfectly ripe. I wonder if there is any answering ripeness
in the lives of the men who live beneath them.”
Henry David Thoreau, Autumnal Tints
My dear friend Amy sent me Thoreau’s book, Autumnal Tints. It is considered his classic essay on the colors of fall, and is the inspiration for my thoughts through the month of October.
It is early in the month and many of the trees are “at the height of their autumnal beauty,” as Thoreau would say. Dee, Gale, Josette and I are paddling in 70 degree balminess at Day Lake, a sweet kidney shaped 110-acre lake that is one of our favorites.
At the peak of the fall colors, the richness of the crimson reds, blazing oranges and dazzling yellows grace the shoreline. They shimmer in the rippling reflection on the water. Their swirling movement reminds me of the Aurora Borealis. Although I’ve only seen the Northern Lights once here in the north, that wavy green smudge of light in the darkened sky was magical. And somehow, this reflection, with its stunning colors below the wispy clouds splayed out across the sky, is just as mesmerizing.
The sounds on the lake are fewer now. We hear a few ducks quacking and the loud jeer of a blue jay. One turtle sits on a log. The frogs are gone. Nature puts on a show of one last burst of color, before her leaves float to the ground. The lake is quieting down.
“The leaves are perfectly ripe. I wonder if there is any answering ripeness
in the lives of the men who live beneath them.”
Henry David Thoreau, Autumnal Tints
It’s mid October now and I’m paddling solo up the Manitowish River, the riverbanks lined with the golden Aurora Borealis of the Tamarack trees, the only evergreens that change colors and drop their needles in the fall. The other evergreens stand tall around them as if to give them a supportive hug before their needles go on their way. They reassure the Tamaracks that they will be here, green as ever, in the spring. Isn’t it great that the trees give each other the support and confidence to be themselves? I hope we all have some supportive trees in our lives, who stand by us during our changing seasons.
The river continues to quiet down. A lone kingfisher faintly chatters its way across the water. The crows caw in the distance, but their voices are muted now. Two trumpeter swans fly silently overhead. A solo dragonfly whizzes by. Nature’s presence now subdued with the softening of the season. Are we quieting down? Are we relishing this final glow of the autumn display before winter? Are we supporting each other during this changing season?
“Leave it to Nature to appoint the days.”
Henry David Thoreau, Autumnal Tints
The end of the month. The river, on this slightly overcast 52 degree morning, is eerily silent. Silent. The loudest noise disturbing the utter stillness is the sound of my paddle in and out of the water. The trees, in full glory just a short time ago, are a muted brown, barren Aurora Borealis now. They are ready. They have shed their leaves and needles, putting a warm blanket around their trunks. They are prepared to withstand the cold and harshness of winter. Are we preparing ourselves for this time of hunkering in? Have we put a warm blanket around our hearts and souls to withstand the swirling, chilling winds? Are we ready for what comes next, whatever that may be? A hush is over the river.
This is my last paddle of the season on my home river, the Manitowish. I tuck in to a clump of tawny brown reeds a few miles upriver, have a cup of hot coffee and an energy bar. The sun, its own reflection a shimmering Aurora Borealis, touches the tip of my kayak.
I listen to the wind beginning to whisper through the pines. The softness of the morning fills my heart with gratitude as little red and I close out our 27th year on the water together. We are ready to tuck ourselves away for the winter and rest. Quiet now, time to be. Nature knows it is time. We do, too. Shhhh….
What “Autumnal Tints” have touched your life this season?
How do you prepare your heart for the coming of winter, this time of going within?
What seed will you plant to germinate in your soul for its blossoming in spring?
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Lovely. Your reference to a “warm blanket around our souls to withstand the swirling, chilling winds” is a poignant reminder of our turbulent society. Well done.