The Sepia-Toned Flutters

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run [...]"

                                   To Autumn - John Keats

Clumps of yellows - lime, saffron, cream-
glowing at the back gate of school

The foliage is steadily gaining momentum to burst into full bloom of gloriously dazzling hues of autumn. There are only dashes of the darkest burgundy and copper at the back gate of my school - a tiny clump of leaves here and there - but I see yellows everywhere, glowing in the light of day. 

Most of the trees are Ginkgo biloba, called 은행나무 in Korean. I think its Korean name is really pretty; its literal meaning is "trees with apricots of a silvery glow".

The trees can be distinguished easily only with a quick glance at its leaves. They look like minuscule fans (or duck feet to the Chinese, hence the name 鴨脚). Looked at a little more closely, there are tiny veins radiating from the leaf base into the leaf blade. The veins are grouped in pairs, which is known as dichotomous venation. I am thinking about how they resemble strands of hair...when I suddenly remember the tree's old name, "maidenhair tree". It's not too hard to figure out the reason behind the numerous names. 

"Trees with apricots of a silvery glow"? 

"Maidenhair tree" ?

My friends have another way to quickly figure out which trees are Ginkgo - by searching for the seeds that have fallen from above. Knowing that these trees are scattered all around the campus, they always scan the ground for  small light yellow-brown seeds before taking a step. The appearance of these little fruit-like seeds can be deceiving: they emit such a foul smell (caused by butyric acid in the seeds) that if you happen to step on them, you can guarantee your shoes will carry an awful stench for days (unless you wash them and scrub them fiercely, of course). It smells a bit like vomit or food waste, which hardly seems possible for  'silvery apricots'.

Still, however rancid the seeds may be, the foliage is simply magnificent. From saffron to beige, hazel, toast, tan and auburn, the seemingly endless shades of yellow are always what I miss when winter comes. 

Small fruit-like seeds tangled with the fan-like leaves...bearing the repugnant odor of vomit

There is something other than the medical properties (although they are still debated over) about the Ginkgo that's truly astounding. It has great capacity for enduring harsh conditions, and that's putting it mildly. Several trees even survived the Hiroshima atomic bomb explosion. They were within 1-2 km radius from the site, and they are still alive. Its enduring resistance against pests and toxins is absolutely remarkable. 

Soon, I'll be seeing other colors of autumn - carmine, rust, chestnut, wine, coral and tangerine - dominate the scene, but the blushes of cream, tints of lemon, glows of gold and sand will always be what I look for throughout the season. 

Something About the Wild Flowers

                 I remember when I was four or five, talking to grown-ups about how I loved each and every flower in the forest we were walking through. It wasn't the "They're just weeds, dear" itself, but the way they said it that took me aback: the flat, impassive tone in which they carelessly diminished the glittering gems into something that sounded dull, even inferior.

                 Today, my adoration for wild flowers hasn't changed a bit. Over the years, my understanding of how they captivate me has become clearer. There is something in their attitude in blooming, the way they hold themselves and how they fit into the world around them. 

         A "bouquet" of green bristlegrass with daisies     

                 They lack the sophistication seen in carefully gardened flowers, but that is what is so charming about them. They are not polished, not manicured; they embody the paradox of having the fine details that make them very exquisite without being too refined. They are subtle instead, almost suggestive in their beauty.

                 A subtle suggestive beauty

                 I admire where, when, and how they burst into life. There are no specific boundaries as to what spaces they can occupy - they grow in the most unexpected places sometimes, not caring who sees them or what threatens them nearby. They escape the contained edges without a second thought, simply aching to see the world, whether it offers them sunshine, rain, snow or wind. They seem adventurous and carefree.

Bursting into life, freely blooming without borders

                 Their strong-willed character in seeing the world for themselves make them more youthful and naive at the same time. They are childish in the way they venture out without a wisp of fear,  to such an extent that they look puerile, even. That's why I can always sense a pinch of silliness, a little mischievousness. 

                 A single flower seems a little too fragile. But when I dare to place a fingertip on its velvety petal, it withstands the force with surprising ease. I wonder at the vitality and energy it holds in its tiny self. 

                 A clover flower among daisies

                 It is that slight imperfection, the way they show up unintentionally but oh so cheerfully that make them so delectable, so lovable. It's autumn, so I'll be seeing my beloved wild flower Cosmos bipinnatus (garden cosmos, Mexican aster) at Yangjaecheon soon!

Cosmos beyond (Picture taken on my recent trip to Pyeongchang)