As The Grape Goes To Barrel We Surrender To Fall

For the past four days Atlanta's weather, remarkably clear, warm, and exceptionally dry, sang of the high country. It should persist for another fourteen days, perhaps longer. Such perfection is normally reserved for later in the endless fall that is so characteristic of Georgia and much of the South Atlantic Bight,  It reminds me of times in Montana and Colorado and many months spent living in and traveling the sacred high deserts of the Southwest where touching the sky is a reality. 

On such days - I call them Colorado days - I work outside in a green woods still brimming with most of the summer birds and insects that have entertained me since May. It's a daily reminder of the full imprint nature has on our lives and one that we too often forget. I think a  closer association with our natural world would be both healthy and wise. In this age of simultaneous isolation and mass information I know I'm not alone. I think the sentiment may revive some aspects of the environmental movement.

The origin of a movement to return to nature likely began in the minds of the early anarchists - the Romantics - who saw the evils of the "dark Satanic mills" of England crushing their guilds along with their independence. About the same time zealots in the French Revolution sought to weave nature into their new cultural overlay and remove influences of the feudal monarchy. But even a bloody revolution left us a fascinating remnant of early environmentalism in the form of the French Republican Calendar. It may have been idealistic - it only survived a dozen years - but it was a beautiful reminder that we do live in nature.

According to that calendar we are about to end the month of Vendemiare, the grape harvester. 

And here are the thirty days of Vendemiare:

Raisin (Grape)

Safran (Saffron)

Chataignes (Chestnut)

Colchique (Autumn Crocus)

Cheval (Horse)

Balsamine (Yellow Balsam)

Carrotes (Carrots)

Amaranthe (Amaranth)

Panais (Parsnip)

Cuve (Tub)

Pommes de terre (Potatoes)

Immortelle (Strawflower)

Potiron (Giant Pumpkin)

Reseda (Mignonette)

Ane (Donkey)

Belle de nuit (Marvel of Peru)

Citroville (Summer Pumpkin)

Sarrazin (Buckwheat)

Touresol (Sunflower)

Pressoir (Wine-Press)

Chanvre (Hemp)

Peches (Peaches)

Navets (Turnip)

Amarillis (Amaryllis)

Boeuf (Cattle)

Aubegine (Eggplant)

Piment (Chile Pepper)

Tomate (Tomato)

Orge (Barley)

Tonneau (Barrel)

Start with the grape. End with the barrel. I think Vendemiaire provides us a comforting association with a different time and place, a pre-industrial existence where we can easily recognize ourselves as part of nature and not separate from it. And having no interest in returning to the "good old days" - they weren't that good - I would seek compromise with the modern world as we know it. Not easy but that's as it should be.

Today I celebrate the season to be close to the earth and its harvest that sustains us through the cold and dark months to come. It's getting late now. The temperature is already falling through the seventies and darkness will soon overtake my deep ink blue sky. No worries. They'll be a beautiful waning gibbous moon on the horizon an hour before midnight and bedtime. What a stunning day. I am left to sink into a welcomed rest, cradled by the music of Eric Whitacre and lyrics from the pen of Charles Silvestri.

Sleep


The evening hangs beneath the moon 

A silver thread on darkened dune
With closing eyes and resting head
I know that sleep is coming soon

Upon my pillow safe in bed
A thousand pictures fill my head
I cannot sleep my minds aflight
And yet my limbs seem made of lead.

If there are noises in the night
A frightening shadow, fleeting light
Then I surrender unto sleep.

Where clouds of dreams give second sight
What dreams may come both dark and deep
Of flying wings and soaring leap

As I surrender unto sleep
As I surrender unto sleep

Sources:

Illustration: Wikipedia entry: Vendemiaire, author unknown, National Library and Bureau of Measures, Paris


Text:

Fondation Napoleon, www.napoleon.org