A seasonal note

Nicole Junkermann on What Late October Clarifies

Not a melancholy month and not a tidy one. Nicole Junkermann on the handful of things late October makes unusually easy to see.

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Nicole Junkermann, portrait, late autumn reflection

The light does the editing

A low sun is a harsh editor. It picks out texture, puts long shadows across things that looked flat in July, and makes a street that was pleasant all summer suddenly worth stopping in. Nicole Junkermann finds that the same effect works indoors, on a desk, and on a list of things that seemed equally important a month ago.

Nothing about the month is subtle in this respect. Summer light flatters almost everything and therefore distinguishes very little. Autumn light is selective, which is another way of saying it is useful, and the selection it makes is usually the one worth agreeing with.

A year stops promising

By late October a year has shown most of what it intends to show. The remaining weeks are real but they are not spacious, and that shortage is clarifying rather than discouraging. Plans that were waiting for a better moment can be seen plainly as plans that were waiting.

There is a particular relief in that. A year with room left in it invites endless deferral, and a year with two months left does not. The arithmetic does the work that resolve was supposed to do, and it does it without any need for a declaration.

Routes shorten and improve

The walking changes shape. Daylight is shorter, the long summer loops are no longer available, and what replaces them is a smaller circuit done more often. Familiarity is not the enemy of attention. Walked for the fourth time in a fortnight, a route stops being scenery and starts being specific.

That specificity is the whole gain. The fourth walk notices the state of a wall, the way a corner catches the light at four o clock, which trees have turned and which have not. A single long walk in June covers more ground and leaves far less behind.

What the month is honest about

Three questions answer more truthfully now than at any other point in the year. What has actually moved since the spring. What is being continued out of interest rather than habit. What was learned that could not have been read. None of the three is comfortable in October and all of them are far easier now than in late December.

The December versions of those questions arrive when everyone is tired, and tiredness is generous. Asked in a cold, bright week with a quarter of the year still running, they get answered on the evidence rather than on the mood.

Carrying it into November

What the month hands over is proportion rather than conclusion. There is time left, just not unlimited time, which is the condition in which most good work actually gets done. The seasonal version of this sits in the cities pages and the shorter circuits turn up in the routes, where the autumn ones are the best documented of the year.