Autumn customs

Autumn seems to have come to the Netherlands very quickly this year. We usually try to take a few days in September to go away for a short break—often in the Netherlands, not too far afield. We’ve had trips with glorious weather, where we could easily sit outside to paint, or read.

Bert’s birthday falls in early September, and it feel s like a good excuse to do something a bit special. We like to head for nature—the forest, or the Hunebedden. It’s a special time for us. The summer is drawing to a close, but the days are still long, and the trees are gorgeous. It’s a time when we talk, take stock, rest, read and I gather a lot of sketches and ideas for my creative year ahead. It’s just a few days but it’s a nourishing time.

Our plans for this September.

This year it’s not gone quite like that. September had much more unsettled weather than expected. We booked a hotel and could cancel up to five days ahead of our arrival date. We checked anxiously until on the critical day, the forecast looked not brilliant but workable—so we confirmed our booking. Then the forecast changed—and kept changing. No two days gave the same version of what to expect, in spite of how often we checked. However, we set off with big hopes things would settle down.

To begin with, it looked like we were going to be lucky. Our journey was good, and the hotel comfortable. Our room had a sheltered balcony looking directly into a mass of trees, where we could sit each morning to do our meditation. We found a nearby Chinese restaurant with portions large enough to feed us for the whole trip. We began to relax.

High hopes

Our first day was windy but the sun was shining and we set off to explore the forest around the Postbank café. My rheumatoid arthritis has put my trekking days behind me but Bert and I have worked out a good practice to compensate. We drive around an area that we’re drawn to and eventually find a good place to stop so I can sit and draw. Bert’s then free to join me, go wandering, or play his flute. He often does all three.

On this day the weather was too wild. As we drove, we passed through a whole range of weather, including pouring rain followed instantly by glorious sunshine. The views through the trees, with the sunlight catching the sparkling rain were breathtaking. The showers seemed to caress the leaves, making them gleam and with the wind tossing them it felt like the forest was communicating with us. We were surrounded by nature simply being as it is—the generosity, the richness, the endless variety were stunning—and it drew us in. Bert even managed to glimpse deer threading through the trees in the distance.

When we finally made for the Postbank, I felt like I was singing inside, I felt so alive.

At the end of the afternoon we sat on a bench overlooking a long, wooded slope observing the magnificent Scottish Highlander cattle grazing among the undergrowth. Although the wind was whipping up around us, it was hard to pull ourselves away. We sat cosily together just absorbing it all.

The weather did not co-operate

Looking back, it’s clear that first day was the best of our short trip. The following day, and the day we were due to return home, the rain was relentless. We tried finding a place to park the car in the forest amid the rain, but it just got too cramped and cold. We looked for a forest café that we could hang out in but there were none that were really inviting. We drove, we took photos, we talked—we even practised my Dutch, but we couldn’t rise above the gloominess and the pouring rain. Towards the end of our second day, we took off for a nearby town and indulged in a magnificent curry. Then we went back to the hotel to cosy up.

On our drive home, Bert worked out a great route that avoided the motorway and took along the most scenic route possible. We detoured to go through a small town we know well with some fun shops and great coffee and cake. We treated ourselves to hand-made chocolates and then we went home.

What do you do when your trip doesn’t do what you wanted?

We got home more tired than refreshed. All the usual routine was waiting for us, and it was hard not to feel hard-done-by. Any trip we make takes quite a bit of research and planning because I can’t walk very far, stairs are challenging and there are certain foods that I must avoid. Bert usually spends quite a bit of time researching where to stay and where to visit. It’s not our habit to stay in a hotel—we usually hire a small apartment and cook for ourselves—but this year we felt like having a treat. It just didn’t seem fair that our precious few days break had not been as we hoped. It didn’t help that after a day or two the weather changed with warmer temperatures and lots of sun.

After a period of feeling a bit low about it all—I hadn’t got any painting done, for example—I tried to look more closely at how I was reacting. The radiant quality of the forest in the rain, the majesty of the trees in the wind all came back to me. It began to dawn on me that I was diminishing powerful sources of nourishment by focusing on what else I had hoped for and missed. I saw how easy it is to do.

In my work I often include materials on our negativity bias, our genetic conditioning that teaches us to take negative things more seriously that positive ones in order to survive and pass on our genes. It often surprises people when I point out how powerful it can be in our lives. Now it was my turn. Here was my negativity bias catching me when I certainly had not seen it coming.

Of course, our trip had been disappointing but it that did not apply to all if it. Parts were disappointing and parts were better than I could have hoped for. It’s too easy to allow feelings of things not being fair to flood a situation and make it into a complete package of discontent. Things are rarely that simple. At any moment I have the option to choose how I react. Yes, negative emotions can be strong, but they can be countered by a careful examination of how what actually took place and by applying some discriminating awareness. It’s refreshing to look carefully at one’s experience and diffuse the emotional burden that we’re attaching to it. Interestly enough, when I returned to my painting class this autumn, I had a whole new approach I wanted to try inspired by the glory of the forest.

Have you had a recent event turn out differently from what you’d hoped for?

I’d love to hear about it.

When Your Autumn Break does Not Turn Out as You’d Hoped.

How my flourishing was challenged at the hairdressers