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"The pretty waters in the sea feel as cold as you left me. Yes, blue must be the color of the blues," - George Jones and Lawton Williams
The night was almost completely dead silent. The overcast skies and the otherwise blackness seemed to enhance the quiet.
However, the void created by the lack of sound was filled with the heady smell of fallen autumn leaves. To me, it was like an exotic tea fragrance with warmth and a presence that was hard to define.
I felt that any campfire I would light tonight would burn warmer and yet softer than those during any other time of the year.
There's something about autumn that produces an almost intoxicating sense of things around me and inside me intersecting, and yet diverging, tugging on my feelings, my senses, my thoughts, energy and reflections.
It makes me feel drunk on the season's sights, smells and other sensory-driven intoxicants. That "drunkenness" affects my spirit in a wavering, high-low fashion, where things can seem upside down and sideways more days than not, but with that not necessarily being a bad thing.
Sunny days and rainy days are welcomed equally.
Last night, in those same wee hours, the silence was shattered when I heard the loud rumble-tumble of thunder approaching from a relatively far distance. I hadn't heard it in such a long time, it at first seemed like an unfamiliar noise.
The thunder heralding a storm brought nuclear-type flashes of lightning and tremendous rain showers that fell hard against the earth for 20 to 30 minutes before the thunderhead rolled off toward the east.
I was in the living room watching television with all the lights off. The lightning strikes lit up the entire room.
In the aftermath, the sound of raindrops dripping from the trees and any other elevated form or structure was presented as soft and gentle patting. Their air was thick, damp and heavy.
Meanwhile, another round of thunder, lightning and rain was gathering in the western skies, and the process would repeat itself at least two or three more times.
My body, mind, heart and soul feed off the autumn's smorgasbord of stimuli that produces electrifying static and sparks within me. My highly varied thoughts arrive and depart in rapid succession.
My ability to sleep has vanished and the nighttime seems like merely the latest contradiction to general procedures and routines. My emotions are tossed into the air and then spiral to the ground like a billion colored maple leaves.
I started thinking about how mixed up and confusing autumn seems to be for me every year. I don't want to work. Sometimes, it gets hard to get up, even on Saturdays.
I just want to be outside, experiencing nature in all its seasonal glory.
I often think about sleeping outside, tending a fire through the night and hiking into forgotten valleys along river courses where even the animals sometimes lose their way.
I dream of places birds could guide me to where there are new places to explore and discover - always a thirst for unknown territory.
Fall remains by far my favorite season.
However, from about this time on, I tend to slide straight downhill in a long decline into the holidays and the requisite reflections and resolutions of the new year on the not-too-distant horizon.
I don't plan for it.
It's just what happens.
I started wondering one day whether autumn has psychological effects on humans and, if so, what they might be.
I was shocked to discover that the fall season specifically does indeed have not only psychological but physical effects on many of us. I never knew that before and I found the information very interesting.
Among the online resources I encountered was a website for kmaTherapy from Toronto, which had a page titled: "The Psychology of Change: Why Fall Stirs Up So Many Feelings."
I couldn't believe how spot-on this information was in answering my questions.
The website explained: "Fall is often romanticized as a cozy season of golden leaves, pumpkin spice, and soft sweaters. But beneath that warm aesthetic, many people notice subtle shifts in their mood, energy, and motivation.
"This isn't your imagination -- science shows that seasonal changes affect our bodies and brains in real, measurable ways. With shorter days and longer nights, our exposure to natural light decreases, which impacts the body's production of melatonin and serotonin, two key chemicals tied to sleep, energy, and emotional balance.
"Even if you don't struggle with full Seasonal Affective Disorder, you might still feel what many call the 'autumn blues' -- a heaviness, restlessness or sense of disconnection that makes day-to-day life feel harder than it did in the summer."
I suffer from this condition, but I didn't think it happened until the dark ice-box days of January and February. This explains why I am already feeling tinges of these sensations even a couple weeks before the Nov. 1 switch back to standard time.
The website said there is more to the psychological aspects of autumn than just the depletion of light.
"Autumn often sparks reflection, since the season itself is symbolic of transition and letting go. Leaves fall, routines shift, and there's often a pull inward. For many people, this can bring up both gratitude and grief.
"Gratitude for cozy nights, comfort foods and traditions. Grief for lost daylight, busier schedules, or even unresolved feelings from the year so far. Instead of pushing away these emotions, fall can be an opportunity to make space for them.
"Reflective practices like journaling, mindful walks, or even voice notes on your phone can help capture the nuances of what you're experiencing. Sometimes simply naming what you're feeling -- 'I'm noticing more heaviness in my mornings' or 'I feel comforted by candles and warm spaces' - can create clarity and grounding."
Gee, I wonder if this counts as journaling?
The website features a list of 15 therapist-approved tips for supporting your mental health during the days of fall. The one that resonates especially with me is No. 10: "Create Nature-Based Rituals."
The counselors said, "Autumn nature offers unique grounding tools -- the sound of leaves crunching, the smell of rain, the feel of crisp air. Engaging your senses outdoors provides natural stress relief and mood boosts."
Suggested activities included "collect colorful leaves and press them in a journal," "try mindful walking: notice five things you see, four hear, three feel" and "watch a sunset or sunrise wrapped in a cozy scarf."
All of this might not seem like anything more than common sense to some people, but I never really thought about how autumn might affect my whole physical and psychological make-up until the last few days.
I am grateful for the information. I think it may even help me understand and enjoy my favorite season much more than I have in the past.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find my cozy scarf, pumpkin bread and get ready for the Great Pumpkin to rise-up out of the pumpkin patch.
Outdoors North is a weekly column produced by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources on a wide range of topics important to those who enjoy and appreciate Michigan's world-class natural resources of the Upper Peninsula.