Passage of Time
I noticed 100 years had passed since Mr. Dickey died in the Argonne Forest in World War One. The museum displays memorials to individuals, companies and divisions from the Civil War through the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Walking here now, as the leaves begin to change and the world slowly decays, the familiar sense of autumn melancholy that visits me every year, was suddenly apparent.
All of it is just sad. The feelings haven’t stopped. Neither have the wars.
Riding at the Beginning of Autumn
This is my favorite time of year to ride. The temperature moderates, the light changes as the sun moves south, but for me, the most powerful change is how alive I feel on the road. Summer is lazy. Carefree. The days seem to go on forever.
Not so in autumn. As I grow more keenly aware of the transient nature of things, I do feel alive. My time becomes more precious.
Changes in the World
Perhaps the most pronounced visualization of autumn in central Pennsylvania aside from the forests changing color is the dying off of the sweeping cornfields. The transition from green to brown and the emergence of the corn ears has always triggered melancholy emotions and memories for me.
As a boy I remember walking through the tall corn with my father as I learned to hunt for pheasants and quail. Or how the dry ears and cornstalks played their part in Halloween decorations and on into Thanksgiving. The decay and change gentle reminders of the desolation of nature as it glides toward winter. And when I got older, the parallel with my own life revealed itself. I’m headed toward winter myself.
Vespa Scooter on the Road
Riding is best in fall. The scenery more dramatic, the temperature a little more bracing, and the feeling of being alive and walking (or riding) on this earth most pronounced.
For me at least.
On this ride the temperature in the morning hovered at 53F. Cool but not cold. Cold enough to make me wonder if I need to change the way I dress for the ride.
Melancholy Reward
Perhaps the greatest little gift of riding in autumn is the lovely relief when sitting down to a hot cup of tea after a cool air ride. I appreciate the warmth more, recognize the great gift of something to eat, and feel gratitude for just being alive and in the world.
It’s all coated with a gentle melancholy, but I would have it no other way right now. Fall is here and it’s great to feel the autumn melancholy.
Greetings. Interesting thoughts, and ones that touch on two of my own. In my office I have a photo of my grandfather standing together with his RAF squadron in the first World War, and today I realized that this must have been taken exactly 100 years ago. He luckily survived, but I have often wondered what happened to the other men. I think the life expectancy of fliers in those days was 2 weeks.
The second thought is about the fields of corn, but this time in Indiana, and not your neck of the woods. When I moved out to Muncie back in the early 1980s I was impressed (or maybe shocked is a more accurate term!) by the unending fields of corn that blocked the views in all directions. Several weeks later, after the harvest was in, the corn was nothing more than stubble, and the views across the flat fields were unending. I had never seen a landscape change so much in such a short period of time.
Looking at old family photos can stir questions that are difficult to find answers. And for me, regret that I didn’t ask more questions when I was younger and there were still people around who might have been able to answer. Those opportunities are long gone now.
I can imagine the shock of the sudden change in the agricultural landscape in Indiana when the corn is harvested. While we have big fields of corn in Pennsylvania, nothing compared to Indiana and certainly not the flat landscape that would make the change so dramatic.
…and time, and the young men, march on…
Very thoughtful post.
I love it when you put up pictures of Saint’s – having finally been able to get there and have a cup of coffee sitting in the seat by the window, your pictures bring back good memories!
When I’m walking, or reading, ideas for posts often float into my head. I don’t often write them though since they’re not riding related. But from time to time they find their way to your computer.
Thanks for the comments about pictures of Saint’s. I thought they had grown tiresome and left people wondering why I didn’t go elsewhere. Maybe I’ll feel a little more free to post them now thanks to you! It’s a fine little cafe.
Nice post.
Fall riding reminds me its time to put the windshield back on Scarlett and to make sure her heated grips still work. Gets a tad chilly in the early mornings and when one loses the sun in the evening ….
Time to adjust the wariness to include wet leaves in the shadows, maybe some ice in the shade in the canyon roads in the near future…..
I can count on you Dom to help me adjust to the cold weather state of mind. Already I’ve felt my feet getting cold. Last night I wore a wool cap on our dog walk. I’ve had the heated grips on twice already. And the winter riding jacket has been put into service on a number of cold mornings.
Cold weather riding still energizes — mind and body. Thought the body is growing less and less tolerant. I hope I never get to the stage where I just park the scooter for the winter.
Good tips about becoming wary. I’m dusting off those skills…
Steve, great read and photos, and you seem invigorated again to share your thoughts. Always a pleasure to start my day reading your reports, keep up the good work!
Thank you for your kind words Phil. I think the seasonal change has inspired more thoughts worth posting. And riding is more common too. Should be more things appearing at the start of your day.
“All of it is just sad. The feelings haven’t stopped. Neither have the wars.”
Yes. Alas.
As I’d been used to riding year-round as a cyclist in Gotham, so it is that I’ve continued this on the Vespa out in Jersey Shore-land. There’ve even been some stretches of Winter where, provided the correct attire, it’s actually been enjoyable, but then there are the idle days of ice and snowdrifts that grate on me (including the fact that I need to deal with shoveling and de-icing on those days). And then there’s the post-Winter thrill – yes, thrill – of stripping away all those warming layers the air temperature climbs above, say, 50°F. And as much as I dislike those sauna-like afternoons (don’t forget, we’re not quite done with those), all I have to do is remember the icy night I (gently) wiped out on Melody a few blocks from home, and, to quote a famous song (you can sing along, if you can guess it), then I don’t feel so bad. 🙂
By the by: My local scooter club is tentatively planning a ride to New Hope – yep, New Hope – on the 14th. Given the length of the ride, and the fact that several of the members are newly-minted Vespisti with relatively limited open-road experience, I’ll have to wait and see if they pull this off with enough people to make this worthwhile. I’ve already committed.
I certainly want to experience those cornfields. On the last group ride a few weeks back we rode through some lovely farms (and vineyards…yeah, who knew?), and thought about the country out your way. There is good, actually great riding out here on a nice day, and that whets my appetite for rolling farther afield. As usual, you allow me to do that by proxy at least.
I’ve convinced myself the sauna-like days are finished but I know you’re right. We’ve had many October days that were miserably hot.
Can’t guess the song. I think Kim thinks I’m musically impaired. Didn’t listen to much growing up. My musical experience was generated late in life and I was never good at hearing the lyrics. You’ll have to share the sing along song.
Riding in the New Hope area would be lovely. If you get that way make sure you stop at the Selvedge Yard Store. Some nice moto apparel and more there.
The open rural landscapes — cornfields, vineyards, forests — are great places to ride. I’m not getting enough of them at the moment.
Oh, the song is A Few of My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music…a film which, incidentally, I’e never seen in its entirety. I’e missed a few things too. 😉
I’ve been to many of the places that appear in that film. My mother grew up not far from where it was shot in Salzburg and St. Wolfgang. Lovely area. Great song.
Dickey died two weeks before Armistice Day. I hate that. To survive so long and for st the 11th hour.
Sad indeed. Hundreds of men memorized on the museum grounds, all lost in those final days.
I’m sorry you were feeling melancholy, but hopefully by now, the fun fall riding has you feeling better! PS, I love the photos and sentiments about your cafe, and would love to visit it one day!
The heavy autumn melancholy has lessened and the fall riding has increased.
I do love Saint’s Cafe but generally only when it is less than packed. That means early weekend mornings or late afternoons before they close.