According to the Met Office, autumn lasts between 1 September and 30 November. But in my memory, it was over and done with earlier than this.
You’d have thought that a family with connections to the Gunpowder Plot wouldn’t necessarily want to celebrate the hanging, drawing and quartering of its relatives. Yet though two of my ancestors were Plotters, it didn’t stop us lighting a bonfire and a few fireworks annually when I was a child.
Perhaps my dad just wanted to burn the dead leaves. Maybe it was cheaper than going to an organised event. But this is what we did, and it was fun. I enjoyed waving a sparkler and oohing and aahing as rockets soared into the night sky.
This comes to mind every autumn, as the seemingly-endless task was to help my father sweep up the fallen leaves and put them on the bonfire (which was always checked for hedgehogs before lighting).
We had more than 100 trees, if you included the mature hedges, so it was a lengthy task, and it was pretty much over by 5 November. There were very few leaves to sweep up after that.
Today, the village is still decked in green. A few trees know in their souls that it is autumn and have changed colour, majestically yellow and red. But they are in the minority. The beautiful oak tree beyond my garden hasn’t changed colour at all.
Summers are longer. Autumn comes later.
Think how exhausted the trees must be. They are good and ready for a winter rest, yet, thanks to human-induced climate change, they are hanging onto their leaves. It could be December before they all fall, with just three months before it all starts again.
If you’ve ever been a workaholic, as I was, you’ll have a glimpse into the sheer weariness that results from going on too long.
The trees must be thinking, ‘It shouldn’t be like this,’ which was exactly my thought as I gazed at the beautiful green vistas across the village.
Then came the storm, the first named storm of the season. If you’re a tree still carrying lots of leaves, your branches are like sails in the wind. They are far more likely to break than if you’ve already dropped your leaves.
So, it was during Storm Austen. There were parts of branches everywhere, all in full leaf. Poor dear trees: tired and now injured.
Climate change is one of those overwhelming subjects that can make you feel powerless and like hiding under the bed.
‘What is the point in me recycling when China is burning coal?’ an old neighbour used to say.
And you can see his point.
But I’d put it another way. We can’t individually impact China opting for coal. But we can make our own choices. They will be flawed. But the climate, the tired trees, the thirsty soil, doesn’t need people to be perfect. It just needs people to try, in a flawed way, to consider it.
Every little choice is part of a virtuous circle. That could be buying a few things from the local zero waste shop; shopping at the farmers’ market for local, seasonal produce; mulching our borders and veg plots to enrich the soil and endlessly planting trees.
I’ve planted a lot of trees in my time. (There are 13 at the allotment). But now, I have such a small garden that it’s quite challenging to include trees. So, for my birthday, some friends sent me a miniature fig tree that can live quite happily in a pot! What a fabulous present. I shall be sending other people trees in the future.
An average mature tree absorbs 10-25kg of carbon per year. Now, let’s balance this by saying that the individual global carbon consumption is 10 tonnes. So, we need all the trees we can get, whenever they drop their leaves, and the good news is that between now and February is the time to plant them.