It was barely mid-August, and the shadows already stretched their long gray arms across the pavement. The all too familiar crisp, autumn air wafted into the neighborhood and the verdant flora began to soften after an intense summer of growth. The apples blushed red and hung like Christmas bobbles from the trees. I was growing eager to pick them, and perhaps I won’t have to wait so long.

Summer feels like it swept through in the blink of an eye, and the looming days of winter are not far away. As usual, our summer was not very warm, and I feel a bit cheated by my expectations. Each year I stay in Norway, I am always surprised that it never truly gets hot, and we are lucky if it feels warm enough to wear shorts. I don't exactly miss the oppressive heat of the sun searing my flesh, but I do long for the warmth on my cheeks and fluttering skirts around my calves. Alas, Norwegian summers rarely afford such luxuries, so here we are again at the first chapter of autumn. “So soon?” I think, but in fact this has become my new normal, I am just resistant to accept it.

The Autumnal Change

Today I decide to walk to my favorite nearby forest on the outskirts of my neighborhood. Along the way, I notice the Juneberry leaves have begun to turn a soft shade of gold, and the leaves of the Swedish Cornel are fading to a pale mauve. The sky is a hazy gray and the sun is completely diffused by a blend of clouds overhead. It creates an unusual feeling somewhere between sleepiness and a sigh. It’s not particularly cold outside yet, but it is cool. I can feel the chill of autumn approaching in the air, though it hasn’t yet begun to nip at my cheeks. I think I will always adore that iconic feeling of seasonal transition.

As I sit on an old gray log, I am keenly aware of how still the forest is. The bugs and birds that once reverberated their symphony throughout the hillside are no longer audible. Occasionally, off in the distance, I can hear a loan bullfinch mournfully calling out, waiting in earnest for a reply but not receiving one.

My ears prick up as I hear the tapping of a woodpecker on a tree nearby, somewhere just out of sight. A moment later, it begins to let out a series of high, nasal squawks. It calls out, then pecks at the tree, then squawks some more as though displeased by the lack of bugs to eat. I finally catch a glimpse of it at the top of a tree, but I think it notices me as well and flies away to another perch. I chose to visit this location in the hopes that I would see a woodpecker. I know they favor this type of terrain, so I’m pleased with myself that I was able to see one.

Human Impact

It’s a bit sad looking around the felled tree stumps. It’s difficult to say if these died on their own or from man-made intervention. Many of the fallen trees have clearly been cut by a chainsaw and have either been arranged around an open stone fireplace or into makeshift benches, but I can’t tell if this was the original intent or simply a byproduct of forest management. Still, it feels morbid to sit upon the corpses of the once beautiful trees.

My thoughts about humanity are interrupted by the loud screams of fighter jets that blaze over the city and over the fjord to the Air Force Base. Although this is a common occurrence here, it’s unsettling because of how quickly it takes me out of the immersion in nature and because it reminds me of the tenuous geopolitical situations around the world. I then begin to notice that I can hear the sound of cars moving along the motorway at the base of the mountain. I hear the revving of engines and the obnoxious blast of a motorcycle accelerating.

The forest is still quiet, and I am intimately aware of the occasional breeze that flutters through the trees. I watch as it ruffles the golden tipped birch leaves and winds its way into the grove of pines.

My Favorite Mushrooms

I am once again glad to see the abundance of mushrooms popping up along the soggy forest floor. There seems to be a diverse array of species this year, or perhaps I just forgot since last year. I have recently discovered a few new species, such as the truncated club and the blue-girdled webcap. I get such a thrill whenever I see new shapes and colors I am unfamiliar with. The fungal world is expansive, and I know I'm just scraping the surface.

While wandering through the forest with no particular destination in mind, I happen to take an interest in a group of bright yellow mushrooms clustered around the base of a tree. I know these are not edible, but something pulls me in closer for inspection. I suddenly notice that in a winding path between the inedible mushrooms are my favorite mushrooms called traktkantarell in Norwegian, or in English they're known as yellowfoot, winter mushroom, or funnel chanterelle.

They are trumpet-shaped mushrooms with a brown convex cap and a yellow hollow stalk. They have a fabulous smokey, nutty flavor that pairs wonderfully with meat dishes and creamy soups. I felt quite proud of myself for being able to identify them amongst a patch of non-edible ones. How much I have learned these past few years! I pick a handful to have with dinner and then gleefully head to the store for some extra ingredients on my way back home.

How is autumn feeling where you are? Have the leaves begun to change yet? Are there any unique autumn crops ready for harvest?