I find pleasure in all the leafy details of the season: the delicate remains of the tooth-edged brown oak, the fiery red maple formed like a palm and the heart-shaped yellow linden. Afloat on the fragrant air, these simple shapes flutter down from bared branches to spin themselves into colorful quilts. I listen to the crackling sounds beneath my feet as I savor the heady aromas; fragrant cinnamon and orange spice and the indescribable smell of dry leaves roasting in the autumn sun.What is it about decaying leaves that conjures up our deepest memories? How can one whiff of a rotting oak stir our reflection, catapulting us back to the giant leaf piles of our youth?
My view is that the secret lies not only in fall's colorful display, but also in something far less tangible - its smell. More inscrutable than seeing or feeling, the experience of smelling opens pathways to a deep-seated awareness that remains dormant in us all. Untouched by human language, this awareness, once awakened, recalls the child we once were and who still lives within. Wafting upwards through the annals of time, the distinctive smell of autumn leaves reconnects us to this child, reminding us of our own particular story, our unique pathway through life and our timeless link to the natural world.
Carole Funger
