In between summer and autumn

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" John Keats

This is my painting of the day in my desk diary - by a previously unknown to me Dutch painter, Balthaser van der Ast, of the seventeenth century. My diary is a northern hemisphere production. so I am not quite sure why I have a somewhat autumnal painting, but anyway it made me think of Autumn, and I was going to write something about Autumn, but then I realised that although, technically we are already in Autumn, (1st March in Australia, although the equinox is not until next week), we really aren't quite there yet. Particularly as when I looked for pictures of autumn fruits, I got apples and pears - and they are not really in the shops yet - well the pears are but I think most of the apples on sale are still cool store ones. The painting features peaches and berries, with plums and grapes, so I decided that, like the painting, we are not really into autumn and not really out of summer - in fact here in Melbourne it is probably the warmest it has been for a month or so, so an Indian summer.

And the painting too seems to be in between summer and autumn. The leaves in the background look autumnal, and the mushrooms are autumnal too, as are the grapes - well - late summer, but the peaches are definitely more a summer thing - as are the red currants. It's an in between time - poised between life and death.

Here in Australia we don't really do autumn in the same way as in other parts of the world, largely because virtually all of our native trees are not deciduous. And Melbourne apparently has six seasons. Of course people have planted non-native trees everywhere, and of course we have trees that turn beautiful shades of yellow, orange and brown - even red, but not in the same abundance as elsewhere. You have to make a special effort almost to travel to areas with such trees - like the vineyards in the Yarra Valley.

That picture is definitely autumn, but as I said, we are not really there yet - just glimpses of hawthorn berries and the occasional 'turning' tree. Which made me reflect upon myself - am I still in summer? Or am I autumnal. Or dare I say, am I in my winter years?

I think like the fruit on offer in the markets I am probably veering towards autumn. I am not in the full flush of maturity and fruitfulness - lush and juicy. Withering a little, maybe a little tart and crunchy, but definitely not yet bleak, desolate and empty.