What is it about October that makes it so busy? Maybe we’re rushing to do all those things that we had planned over the summer but never found the time to do. Maybe it’s the cool breath of winter breathing on our face in the mornings, or the way the coffee steams as we stand barefoot on the deck beside the fire pit, still glowing dull red from the night before. Or course there are the dying leaves, and the migrating birds, and the deer and turkeys finishing off the last of the garden. All those things nourish melancholy like the knowledge that you are growing old.
But for me it is not the shortening days or the fact that winter is on its way that makes October so frantic. It is not a feeling of aging. There is no creep of lethargy in my step. In fact, I am energized by the shortening days. I do not want to slow down and do less. I want to do more. I want to do it all. I want to ride through buffalo calves and appraise them before they are turned out onto the National Grasslands for the winter. I want to check fences and ride my young horse because, suddenly, his rump and shoulders have muscled out, and his jaw has gone square, and he is not a colt anymore. I want to get up early and lurk in the bushes along the ridge above where the antelope, and deer, and coyotes test themselves and each other against the idea of winter. I have a very real need to heed the longing in my bird dog’s eyes and follow them out into the prairie with a shotgun over my shoulder. In darkest night I dream of heroic fish sliding silently to the surface and slurping down the grasshoppers that have plagued us now for months.
I want to do it all but for some damned reason everyone else wants to do it all too. Projects always seem to finally get rolling in October. Deadlines, and book fairs, and meetings, and important visitors love to pester me in October. Why can’t they hold off until December or January when there is plenty of time to fuss over a computer, glad-hand strangers, and prepare reports? Why not start the job in a month when there is actually enough time to get your thoughts together? Why not February or March, when winter has driven us indoors anyway? Why not delay all those projects until the grouse have flocked up and are careening, beyond our ability to connect, through the dim sky to the distant horizon, when the brown trout are low in the stream, dreaming of caddis flies and green drakes.
October is a time when night is not my friend. Pleasant as these autumn nights can be, I want light and time to move through it. I want to be out in that bracing air early and suck it all into my lungs. I want to do my best to make a vacuum of the river valley below our house and bring it all into my lungs and claim it as my own. I don’t want to be surprised by a gurgling kettle of sandhill cranes, far above and heading south. I want to lie on my back, looking up, and wait for them if it takes all day.
Some believe that October reminds us of death and decay and that it is regret that speeds us up and pushes us to grab life with both hands. They see spring as the time of life but I know that spring is a time for innocence – babies of every sort. It is October that oozes life. It’s a time of maturity and the peek of virility. It is end of the growing season when the tonnage of life is greatest and when plenty is the rule. It is when all indoor activities should be shut down and all of us who pay attention to such things, should step outside and howl. That is where I am going. It’s a little cool out there today. Cool enough that walking in the sunshine will have purpose. I’m going to lay myself down in a field, wait for the cranes and if they come, howl with delight.
Comments 9
What a beautiful message to read. Thank you and I’m glad we are not the ones to bother you in October!!!
Having been out of touch for a few years, (as the freezer was full and the mail addresses changed) I received the newsletter in October as a newcomer. May I respectfully suggest a by line at the end of the article for those of us who wonder who in the world these people are.
Go for it Dan!!! At our age we shouldn’t have to play “hooky” from obligations to do what we love…& October is the perfect month for that.
I will listen for that howl…& I will join you in it, from my marshland prairies when I too, see the Sandhill Cranes!
Beautifully written…thank you for feeding my soul… I now understand why I feel the way I do about October.
October being my birth month, I have always relished the coming of this time of year…and as for howling….well, that should be done on a regular basis any time of year! Truly enjoy your thoughts Dan.
Great article… and so true! Can’t wait to get the new book. And as for the end of the month pheasant hunt for the family…. please say “hi” to your bros. for me. Haven’t seen them, either, in many years. Mike’s and my reunion was flooded out 3-4 years ago…
I shoveled the compost pile onto the garden today – one of my dirtiest jobs of the year here in New Jersey. I love my garden in the summer, but I also love to dismantle my garden in the fall. Today was clear, sunny and warm. The compost was deep black dirt and will enrich the garden next spring. As I work, I am accompanied by the spirits of my mom and my grandfather – the people who taught me to grow tomatoes and green peppers. Thanks for the meditation on autumn, Dan!
Hi Dan,
Like you, I LOVE October!! At the full moon last month, I sat out in the yard, listening to an NPR program on autumn music and, finally, had to get up and dance in the moonlight, leaves rustling under my feet. I did not howl but I should have!!
I have read and enjoyed STOLEN HORSES. Thank you so much for this metaphor for what is happening to so many communities in the midwest, as well. I am going to re-read the book and write a review for the local newspaper. Maybe they will publish it so more can enjoy your writing. I have been a fan since EQUINOX. Happy November!!
Hello Dan, I just got off the phone with Scott as I learned from your mother’s obit that he lived here in Tallahassee where I live. I am so sorry for your mother’s passing..she was a wonderful woman. I read your “musings” and can definitely relate to the October thing, even here in Florida. Your writing is beautiful. Age is relative and I always feel 18 until I look in the mirror at someone else. I have decided that covering all mirrors in my home should take care of that issue. Anyway, condolences on your mom…she was wonderful to me, the little poor and shy girl of 16. The memories came flooding back of plane trips to Houghton Mich. and football games, ice carnivals,modeling her clothes, and many times when she traveled she would bring something back for me…clothes, luggage, odds and ends. Yes, your parents were good to that little girl. I will forever be greatful to them as I glimpsed another way of life apart from the one I lived back then.