Seasonal Offerings

October's air hangs heavy with a sense of culmination and finality. Sometimes frosty carrying the scent of chimney smoke across a park lit by the last rays of indian summer sunshine. Sometimes moist with the scent of rotting leaves, returning to the earth, particle by particle, melting into layers of soil. The summer's sunshine is distilled and concentrated to the deepest oranges, reds and pinks of fallen leaves, every drop falling to the ground and burning like embers of golden fire against the green, the grey, the black of the canvas provided by lawns, fields, pavements and roads. Things are dying, ending their lives. Nights draw in, heading into the dark tunnel of winter.

But alongside rotting, decay, mulch and disintegration, the earth brings forth bumper crops of its finest efforts and full of life. Pumpkins, squash, marrow, beetroot, cauliflower, apples. Final offerings, a farewell gift. And a sense of saving the best til last. No more tentative sprouting salad leaves of spring, tender green vegetables of summer. Concentrated colours and flavours, bold and sensuous contours are autumn's signatures, a final flourish before heading underground to sprout the root vegetables of winter. I want to keep them in my hand, a source of warmth for the cold, dark, colourless, damp months to come. Frantically distilling them down to soups and curries to be frozen as a memoir for a later date. Curried Sweet Potato and Butterbean Soup, Purple Cauliflower and Roquefort, Borscht, Apple Pie with a Cheddar Crust, Cider Vinegar Muffins, Annapurna Daal Bhat... Squash Curry.



And as a I think of these things, pouring over recipe books for what to do with the season's produce... a 6 month old is gazing intently out the window from his seat at my feet. He's in my care for the afternoon and grumbled incessantly until I took him to the window to watch the light flicker through the trees. Mesmerized, he stares contentedly outwards and upwards, calm enough now to be put to rest in his chair by the window, facing out to the world. He's watching the patterns of the golden autumn light filter through the trees as they blow and shake in gusts of wind. He's watching the leaves spiral down from their lofty heights, dancing at ground level before coming to rest on piles on the grass. He's falling asleep with the light dappling his rosy baby face.

And elsewhere I see the culmination of seasons of growth. Day to day watching babies brought into the world, grown in a dark place for months, nourished and cared for and brought forth in a magnificent fashion when they are ripe and ready, I can't help but think of miraculous design, patterns, circles, rhythms, reasons.

But they come at all times of the day and night, all times of the year. And with slightly more risk and effort involved. I've not long finished my allocated week on delivery suite (so named to make it sound less medical than 'labour ward'). A week that I've looked forward to all my medical school career. And I did it in style, with multiple night shifts (including a Sunday night), 16 hour day shifts, lots of cups of coffee and basically wearing myself out. And it was worth it. I saw 8 beautiful babies blink their sticky eyes open to look at the world for the first time, and even managed to 'catch' an additional two myself.

It was a week of thinking, observing and reflecting... some of those thoughts are crystalising and will soon be ripe for publication. If you're interested, stay tuned.