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Fall foliage seems to be lagging a bit this year (I’m writing this on October 4th) with a few splashes of color higher up on Okemo and in the swampy land along Tyson Road. So the perennial questions concerning the changing of colors arise, and it depends upon your source to determine your answer.
The changing of color within the leaves at this time of year is due to the process known as photosynthesis. In this process, chlorophyll (which brings the green color to leaves in the Spring and Summer) breaks down as a result of lower temperatures, a decrease in sunlight (as nighttime hours overcome the hours of daylight), and because of particular genetics, which vary from one species of tree to another. Botanists agree that the waning sunlight is the most determining factor. As this process progresses, the true colors of the leaves begin to show forth. Colors are determined by the natural chemicals within each leaf: carotenoid produces the yellow, orange and brown colors; anthocyanin produces red.
My grandfather would dismiss all of this and claim that it's the work of Jack Frost, who sails along the sky at night with his pots of paint, coloring the leaves as he wishes. Grandfatherly lore aside, the late summer weather produces some determining factors: too hot to too cold can mean the colors will be less bright. An actual frost stops the process of making pigments within the leaf, so the much-touted theory that a frost is necessary does have some merit.
But just who is this Jack Frost? He seems to have derived from Scandinavian folklore that made its way to England and then across the pond to America. He is the personification of that coming season whose name shall not be spoken. In folklore, Jack is an enigmatic character, mischievous, but mostly benign. There is evidence of this character found in publications dating back to the early 1700’s. Now, however, Jack Frost is mostly a turn of phrase, as in “Jack Frost nipping at your nose,” as described by Mel Tormé in his beloved Christmas song about chestnuts roasting, and so forth.
The first frost comes at its own beckoning and is met by either joy or sorrow depending on one’s outlook. I have a friend who owned a small greenhouse and nursery, who celebrated the first frost, meaning that she could close her business down for the winter. I don’t look forward to first frost, except that it means a relief from tending the garden. Like many, I will cover the more tender blooms to squeeze a little more life and color from them, though weeds seem impervious to the lethal rime.
All in all, the Autumn is my favorite season, with the cool, crisp air, the warm colors of the Fall foliage, the cider, the hayrides, the décor of Indian Corn and pumpkins (and memories of the sweet smell of burning leaves in my youth). It’s a time of letting go, of cutting back the outdoorsy activities and relaxing more in the moment. Reading on the porch requires a blanket now, and soon I’ll bring in the houseplants which have enjoyed their summer vacation out there. This season will eventually be crowned with the uniquely American holiday of Thanksgiving, reminding us to thank God for His wonderful Providence. Deo gratias agimus tibi.