It’s been a beautiful autumn for colour and sunny days. A bit dire for rain, of which we have had almost none this whole year so far, but the days have been glorious. The changing leaves against a background of blue sky – so vivid and lovely. I’ve also been noticing the scattering of leaves underneath the trees, and on car windscreens when they are parked under said trees. It’s all pretty gorgeous. It’s hard not to be reminded of life’s passing through all this. Time flinging by and our lives with it, in all their messy, hopeful, up and down intensity. All those feelings and thoughts and actions swirling around us and in us. Both Sonnet 73 and A history of leaves.
Amid it all I went to the funeral and celebration for Moo (Miriel) Lenore’s life last weekend. She was a poet too, and a truly wonderful woman. The gathering was held at Mt Lofty House, just next to the Botanic Gardens, where the leaves were going wild. It was a very special occasion – singing and speakers, time for reflection and tea, photos and memorabilia from a long and special life – she died shortly after her 96th birthday last month.
There were readings of some of Moo’s poems, and other poets too (Emily Dickinson was a feature), and we were given a poem on a bookmark, one of Moo’s, which seems to me to fit in with this autumnal theme very well.
Life’s full of all sorts isn’t it – we’re on our game sometimes and distinctly off it at others. We do our best, we are confused, we stumble, we pick ourselves up. We have a go, and have a go again. We are filled with joy and wonder, and also we’re filled with sorrow and trepidation and uncertainty. But autumn comes with its colours (and not just in autumn). Seeds remain for us to go ahead, or to leave for others to tend. We are involved deeply in life. To finish with another poem, one from Rilke, written 100 years ago this month…
We are not to know why
this and that masters us;
real life makes no reply,
only that it enraptures us
makes us familiar with it
Stories of buttons and bread 
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