Autumn

I don’t mind a bit of autumn. It seems to arrive just in time, its clear blue days free of the sweaty humidity of summer, and the ceremonial changing of the clocks to signal the coming of winter. It’s still nice enough to enjoy a picnic in the park, yet cool enough to warrant a good bit of casseroling and a warm blankie over the knees come evening time.

I get a bit sentimental this time of year. I grew up in Orange, where autumn hits full force, trees flaring all reds and purples and yellows on every street corner. Cook Park, with its masses of deciduous trees, is like something out of an autumn how-to guide. That’s all before the leaves fall, clogging the streets and nudie-ing up the trees for winter. Just outside Orange is Campbell’s Corner, a picture-perfect bend of country road where the trees know how to put on a show for a few weeks each year. When I think of autumn, I think of Campbell’s Corner.

So I’m surprised to discover after all these years as a Sydneysider that it doesn’t really happen here. Sure, days get shorter and cooler, but never cool enough to cause the famous fiery leaves. They just die and fall off. So the best I could do this late April day was to find a park with a good serve of fallen leaves – ‘cause we all know the other great thing about autumn is to run through a park kicking the leaves up in the air or to dive headlong into a pile of just-raked leaves.

Alas, my investigation of the parks in Marrickville only really turned up a smattering of fallen leaves. I was forced to save my leaf diving for another day. I did, however, find myself skewering some dry leaves on a twig to make an umbrella for the fairies like my 8-year-old self often did. The leaves were a bit damp from the morning dew and lacked that satisfying crunch, but you get the picture.

I’ve got a deciduous tree in my backyard. I’m not sure what it is, but every winter the small leaves yellow and fall, signalling the change of season perfectly. It’s rivalled only by the flip of the coin, springtime, when the bare branches bud and bloom with new greenery. I can’t remember if my mum preferred the crazy colours of autumn or the blossoming beauty of spring – each was met with vocal oohs and ahhs, enough to make my cynical teenage eyes roll. All these years on, I can see what she was so excited about.