Listening to the Leaves

Questions from the trees (autumn edition).

If you know me, you know I love trees. At this time of year, so does everyone else. Here, in Bedford, their colours are reaching a crescendo and I’ve been making the most of some golden afternoons by going for at least two walks a day.

Maybe I didn’t pay enough attention in science lessons at school because it was only a few years ago that I learnt about the chemical processes that cause leaves to change colour in autumn. I was admiring the stunning Virginia Creeper that overhangs a neighbour’s fence when I realised I had next to no scientific understanding of how it had turned such gorgeous shades of red and decided to do a bit of research (not because I wasn’t satisfied with delight but because the delight was asking to be explored).

Side note: I’m always surprised when people oppose spirituality and science because my experience of investigating the mechanics of how things work almost always takes me deeper into wonder and awe. It doesn’t disenchant the world but connects me with Source - the Creator who is intimately and endlessly present in all the natural processes of life.

Perhaps you’ll already know this but, what I discovered through my research, was that the colours we see in autumn are not so much new as newly visible. As this article explains, the green we see in spring and summer is caused by an abundance of chlorophyll in the leaves. In autumn, decreased light levels cause this chlorophyll to break down allowing the colours of other compounds in the leaves to be revealed. Yellow light is reflected by flavonols, orange by carotenoids and red to purple by anthocyanins. Although different tree species have different combinations of these compounds, the colours can also vary from year to year. If you’ve ever thought that the trees seem more red some autumns than others, you’re right. Red light reflecting anthocyanins are produced when sugar that has been generated by photosynthesis gets trapped in the leaves. This means you’re more likely to see brighter reds in a year where spring and summer have been warmer, drier and sunny, causing an excess of sugar in the leaves.

Learning that a tree’s autumnal colours were held in the leaves all along came as something of an “aha” moment for me; to be more accurate, it was an “of course” moment. Not because I suddenly remembered some long forgotten chemistry lesson but because it makes perfect sense to me that the revelation of something present all along is made possible by something else crumbling or dissolving. Time and again, in myriad ways, I’ve witnessed how the breaking down of something loud and dominant precipitates the shining through of something more hidden that was there all along.

For example…

The breaking down of coping mechanisms and masks to reveal the heart of a struggle present since childhood.

The breaking down of false or fear or pride driven patterns and behaviours to allow the guidance of a deeper, wiser, more centred knowing to be revealed.

The breaking down of shoulds and musts to reveal authentic longings.

The breaking down of doubts and insecurities to reveal unselfconscious joy and confidence.

I wonder if any of those resonate with you.

I wonder how you might respond if you trusted the leaves were asking you:

What is breaking down in you and what is being revealed?