Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
…
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
(John Keats, Ode to Autumn, 1819)
As I write this in early March, autumn has begun – autumn is not so dramatic here in New Zealand as is the case in Canada where most trees are deciduous. Our native trees are not deciduous, so we don’t have the glorious mass of colour found in other places, but 19th century settlers brought with them trees they loved, and so oaks, elms or sycamores are definitely deciduous, providing amazing but limited colourful spectacles.
The previous two autumns in 2023 and 2024 were not seasons of mellow fruitfulness. Unending rain meant that young plants in our veggie garden rotted. This year was quite the reverse with buckets of tomatoes, passion fruit, courgettes, red onions, and many more. Our little parish community is a great place for swapping produce, and such plenitude has also meant trips to the Salvation Army food bank with surplus produce.
Something else that is surprising about the climate in 2025 is how cold it was in January, surprising because I read reports that said the northern hemisphere had experienced the warmest January ever. I am not a scientist but lower than normal sea level pressure east of New Zealand explains the often cool south-easterly winds seemingly coming straight up from Antarctica.
The reverse happened in the northern hemisphere, the hottest January ever as melting snow and diminishing glaciers meant a less reflective surface, and so heat was absorbed, instead of being reflected back from snow-covered land.
It amazes me that we have so many climate deniers out there as it is obvious that our weather patterns are changing dramatically. I wonder what Keats would write today about autumn and spring, those seasons of mellow fruitfulness and new life.
Climate, like the economy, now seems to be a boom and bust affair – droughts or flood, abundance or collapse in the garden, or more extreme heat or cold. Opening the eyes of politicians everywhere to the reality of climate change is surely an imperative for us all.
Susan Smith RNDM is a lecturer emerita in The University of Auckland’s Department of Theology. Her PhD was on developments in Catholic missiology after Vatican II. After her retirement from The University of Auckland, Susan also provided NT modules for the University of Newcastle, Australia, and a Women in Leadership module for Duquesne University. Susan lives with another member of her congregation in Whangarei, New Zealand, where both are committed to exploring experientially what it means to live in an eco-community. Both are involved in neighborhood environment organizations. They are particularly interested in what might shape eco-spiritualities in New Zealand.
