Seeds of Autumn

There is a lot of poetry written about autumn, much of it praising the brilliant colors of the leaves, and the melancholy as the trees let them go, which remind us of the things we let go of in our own lives, or that final letting go. As I was walking through a park with my friend I asked “what else is there to be said about fall?” She thought for just a moment and then reached up to the nearest tree, a sycamore, to pull off a seed ball. She ran her thumb across it and hundreds of tiny seeds were set free, each with their little puff of fluff that helps them travel. “Seeds – they are everywhere this time of year” she said.

As I have taken my morning walks each day I see that it is true- the milkweed pods with their cottony fluff. The bean tree pods that rattle when you shake them. The gross goo of the gingko tree fruit all over the sidewalk. A shower of little maple-tree wings fluttered by my window in the wind yesterday.

Seeds are the reason of the cranberries and apples and winter squash that show up on our tables at this time of year. Seeds are the reason we have the holly berries and pinecones with which we deck our halls. Here in the northeast the end of fall, beginning of winter there is a great abundance of seeds- so many plants taking this moment to release their investment in the future, feeding us and all the animals who need that nourishment to get through the coming winter.

I usually think about seeds in the spring, when it is time to start my garden, but the plants have been preparing their seeds all season, packing them with the crucial DNA, with a shell to keep that precious material safe until it’s time to grow, with a bit of nutrition to get them started, and with their own unique strategies to help them find just the right spot when it is just the right time to spring to life. All the seeds dropped now by trees, floating on the wind, or squirreled away by squirrels must wait. Many will wait until spring or summer, some will wait for years.

How hopeful I feel as I walk through my neighborhood noticing all the clever plant parents releasing their precious seeds- none of which are going to germinate in this frozen soil. So many of the trees and flowers and weeds that come to life next year will have had their start in this cold and blustery moment. Perhaps it will give you hope too, to think of ourselves releasing our own metaphorical seeds, year after year, some of which will sprout in another season, while others may wait for years to find their right time to grow. Blessings for all the seeds released this season: the ancient wisdom coiled inside their very DNA, the hard protective shell for the waiting, and the faith that the right time to burst forth and grow will come again- as it always does in the ancient cycle of life.