The many shades of autumn

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Fall officially begins at 8:03 p.m. Thursday. For many of us, it's our favorite season. The reasons typically cited break down along familiar lines — the beautiful colors, the crisp, cool days or maybe even the return of our regular routines of school and work.

I submit our love of fall is more nuanced. Let me explain.

I recently read that the Japanese have words for 72 distinct "seasons." This is to say, Japanese' observational skills are so refined that they can discern 18 distinct "mini-seasons" within each of the four cardinal seasons.

Having now reached the metaphorical equivalent of early fall in my own life, and perhaps because I have slowed down enough to become more observant, I feel I have begun to distinguish a few of Minnesota's mini-seasons.

The first arrived in early August, when I detected an early flock of geese honking their way south. (In a way, the geese reminded me of elderly neighbors who seem to head south earlier and earlier every year).

The next occurred when I heard an acorn gently thudding onto a sun-drenched lawn.

Both, in a subtle way, reminded me of being awakened by my mother when I was young, with a soft whisper and a gentle nudge telling me it was time to get ready for that first day of the new school year.

Another mini-season ensued when a singular leaf of a maple tree turned a vivid crimson. It was like a lover throwing you a seductive wink at the beginning of the evening. It seemed to offer a tantalizing prelude of things to come.

Without my fully realizing it, fall had again established its seasonal toehold in my heart. The seduction was so sly that it was still difficult to recognize. It's like the difference between the first day of the State Fair and the last day. The high temperature on both days may hover around 80 degrees, but the sharpness of the cool morning air that greets you at your doorstep on Labor Day somehow snaps you to attention and fills you with an ineffable optimistic energy not present in August.

A week later, yet another strange mini-season arrived. If you're observant enough you may catch it at twilight, when the rays of the setting sun catch a chlorophyll-depleted elm leaf at just the right time and angle to deftly tease out a stunning greenish-yellow hue which is somehow utterly unique to only a few days in early September.

The next mini-season may be slightly less pleasant but is no less important. You may have noticed its arrival one evening when, realizing it was dark outside, you turned to the clock expecting it to read 9 p.m. but were startled to discover it was still not 8 p.m. You then think to yourself, "Argh, the days really are getting shorter." And then it hits you — fall is a metaphor for life.

Yes, geese fly south and parents and loved one leave us, but still acorns fall and life begins anew. In between, love can beckon with a wink and every stage of life can be as exquisite as a fading leaf at twilight.

We love fall because it reminds us that we are here on this earthly plane for a fleetingly short period of time and it is our job to savor every moment we are graced to experience.

Jack Uldrich lives in Minneapolis.