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Illustration by Nijah Smith
In Calgary, fall always comes as a surprise. One minute people are canoeing down the Bow River, enjoying the late summer warmth, and, almost without warning fall arrives in brilliant ways, its exuberance on full display. The season is quick and unpredictable – maybe just a week or two, three at the most, before snow falls and the leaves all drop from their trees.
If this season was a colour, it would be yellow. And, not just yellow, but chartreuse and mustard and canary and neon and school bus and taxicab and sunflower yellow. Any description of the brilliant yellows exploding on the aspen and larch trees dotting the Calgary landscape seems insufficient. The usual sea of green blanketing the foothills is now speckled with bright yellow splotches that would make even Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s umbrellas seem unoriginal and sparse. Fall’s grey skies don’t seem to be quite as gloomy with the yellow popping out in defiance.
While Calgary doesn’t have the reds and oranges of Eastern Canada, the yellow holds its own in vibrant extravagance. People flock to the mountains when the trees are in their yellow glory – thousands hike up trails known for their fall shows – Pocaterra Ridge and Chester Lake in Kananaskis and Larch Valley in Banff become Instagram famous for these two glorious weeks.
When the yellow leaves and the shorter days come, I’m still longing for more summer – long, carefree days full of possibility. But the leaves beckon and invite us to move forward into another season, ready or not. I have heard that for the people of the Stoney Nakoda Nations, whose ancestral lands are full of the spectacular yellow trees, the fall is a time to reflect on the ways we are maturing into a new season. There is wisdom in pausing and reflecting at this transition.
This fall I’m a bit sentimental as we are marking the days before my eldest daughter leaves for university next year. Every occasion is now accented with the thought that this is the “last” Halloween or the “last” Christmas before she moves away. My thoughts also turn to my own aging and the ways life continually moves on. I wonder how I might be maturing – I sense more comfort in my own skin, an easing of the need to please everyone, a narrowing of the many activities that once took my time. I’m starting to let go of things that are not life-giving and embrace the new season in which I find myself.
As I walk down the sidewalk in my neighbourhood, yellow leaves crunching beneath my feet, I can’t help but think these leaves prepare us for the unexpected new seasons in our lives – changes that come whether or not we are ready or want them, transitions both good and challenging – kids moving away, parents getting older, our own aging.
Yellow tells us to pay attention, but it’s also a hopeful colour. It moves us forward into the great unknown – the brilliance of which is spectacular. If only we could be more like the trees – taking all the changes in stride, basking in the brilliance of their new colour and facing the new season with courage and expectation.
Sheena Trotter-Dennis lives in Calgary.