A calm quiet resonates in the garden. Autumn is like an intending looming temporal loss. In Unani medicine, Autumn is associated with the Earth element, as all the vegetation and plants prepare to return back to earth. The sadness of autumn reflects its melancholic temperament. It is a contemplative state, as the season shifts from summer’s warmth to winter’s cool grasp. The gradient hues of the falling leaves; oranges, reds, browns and yellows mark an end, a reminder that life is transient. As the days grow shorter and the air turns brisk, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot feels like a quiet farewell.
This year everything is extremely overgrown. The Valerian has been invasive, it has creeped in to all the pots, and leached through the slabs and in every orifice. My three cats adore it though, they dig the pots and take out the root to roll around in pure delight. I have left it as is, for them, for now anyway. I may regret this.
The walnuts fruits are opening up, and I can hear the snapping of the shells as the squirrels are feasting and hiding the nuts in my pots and planters. The hydrangeas are drying out, I have dead headed most of them, but left a few to dry out on the stems, as they make stunning dried flower displays. There’s still a few evening primroses determined to play with the wind, and an abundance of blackberries to harvest still.
A new plant I grew from seed this year was the Lady’s Mantle (Alchemilla vulgaris), commonly known for its astringent and healing properties, especially for women’s issues
The name ‘Alchemilla’ translates as ‘little alchemist’, coming from the Arabic word Alkemiya and is linked to medieval alchemy. The dew that gathers on its leaves was understood to possess spiritual qualities. This highly prized liquid was known as Aqua Celestis (heavenly water), and thought to be the purest form of distilled water used in alchemical practices with the aim of achieving spiritual purity and transformation.
I am trying to get to know the ‘little alchemist’ a little bit better. She appears to me especially feminine, earthly and quite motherly. I have made it a ritual to go out in the garden, and to observe the dew that she exudes every morning. Her broad cloak like velvety leaves appear to be so inviting, and I eagerly accept her offerings, and sometimes make a cold tea infusion combining the dew filled leaves. I truly hope she makes it through the winter.
Autumn is strange, its sadness is both gentle and bittersweet. It can evoke nostalgia for what has passed or spark reflections on the fleeting nature of things. The sombre skies, bare trees, and cold air indicate solitude and loss, yet there’s a quiet appeal in the stillness. It’s a season for reflection, for releasing the past, and for embracing change, and even accepting the subtle melancholy it offers.
