The bridge at Langlois

Although we have not yet reached the autumnal equinox, my mind has already down-shifted into fall. Lately, the days have been clear and crisp; the nights cool, but not enough to dampen those nocturnal insect serenades. Sounds of crickets still pulsate through the screened windows of our house at eventide, albeit without the intensity of their warm summer night cacophonies.

The hummingbirds have departed. I have not seen them at the front porch feeder since Labor Day. These days only sparrows, titmice and chickadees frequent the firebushes. While immersed in painting the balustrade this afternoon, I chanced to look up and glimpse a high-flying hawk soaring across the blue sky in a southern direction.

The leaves from the poplar trees on Winthrop Street lie brown and fallen, wafting rusty hints of autumn when crushed underfoot.

After my evening shower I donned my day clothes and stepped out for a walk. Many of the neighborhood houses lay in darkness. Tops of tall pines stood silhouetted against the last light of evening.

As I approached our house, I caught a brief chill in the night air.

Summer is behind us, and autumn is not quite here; the day’s work now done, but not yet time to retire.

I glance at the calendar on the closet door. September — this month that houses the equinox — carries a reprint of Van Gogh’s “Pont de Langlois.” Washerwomen work at riverside below the stone abutments as a covered horsecart crosses the drawbridge. At some point the weights will shift, the ropes will groan and the central span will separate as it rises beneath the overarching blue sky.

The equinox is not a moment in time, but rather a process. We humans carve up the year into seasons, as though our calendars could pinpoint these transitions in time.

Ultimately, such events remain elusive, although we persist in attempting to convince ourselves otherwise.

“Pont de Langlois” by Vincent Van Gogh, 1888


One comment on “The bridge at Langlois

  1. Allan Bedashi says:


    Thanks for reminding us about fall and how nature is preparing for it. Yes, I agree that the autumnal equinox is just a point in time in a never ending cycle. Here in rural West Virginia we can definitlely feel a little chill in the air and the leaves are already beginning to turn.

    It seems like just a few weeks ago I read one of my poems called “Summer Rain” to my students in the Physcian Assistant Program at West Liberty University. Pretty soon I will be reading another called “To Autumn” to them.

    Having been a student at U-Mass, Boston many years ago, I can still remember the magnificence of the fall colors there. Perhaps the closest comparison would be the fall colors in the northwest that I enjoyed when I was stationed with the Navy there. I’m somewhat envious of you, that I cannot enjoy the New England autumn, but I hope you continue to get a great thrill out of it.

    Best wishes!… Allan

    To Autumn

    Whither have the last days of summer
    eased into somnolence?
    The Hesperus in her heavenly bounds yet shines.
    Daylight shadows linger still.
    The autumnal equinox cometh hence.
    Arboreal leaves begin to turn
    magnificent hues of red and golden brown
    in splendorous array!
    Fruitful vines yet to be plucked,
    and harvested grain from nature’s fold
    will sustain in winter’s frosty chill.
    Yet still, the skylark sings;
    soon autumn leaves will begin to shed
    and crumpled dry, will spiral to the ground
    to rest upon the grassy bed.
    So with champagne breath,
    lift your glass and give a cheer,
    for autumn days will soon be here!

    Copyright © Allan M. Bedashi

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