The beauty in nature that we miss – Keats in Winchester

The red-breast whistles from a garden croft.

Keats – ‘To Autumn’ (32)

It’s the autumn of 1819, and poet John Keats is taking his daily walk through Winchester.

On pathways that modern residents know well, he notices the smallest details, from the gnats at the riverbanks, to the “rosy hue” of the water meadows at sunset.

Leaves crunch underfoot as I follow in his footsteps, the rain coming in soft cycles.

While not explicitly mentioned, the ancient capital of Anglo-Saxon England can easily be felt between each of the lines, which flow like the River Itchen that Keats would have walked by.

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

   Among the river sallows, borne aloft

      Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies.

Keats – ‘To Autumn’ (27-29)

Sue de Salis, chair of the Winchester Area Tourist Guides Association’s, describes to me how Keats helps people to “see things they wouldn’t otherwise see, and see the beauty in things”.

I find this is true – from a tiny snail slowly creeping across a leaf triple its size, to a robin perched on a branch in the shadows of Winchester Cathedral.

Often, To Autumn is interpreted as a poem about dying, but in a way that sees the innate beauty in it.
It uses heavy contrast and double meanings, such as the mist and “mellow fruitfulness”, creating a serene yet bittersweet feeling for the reader.

“It’s quite upbeat,” de Salis explains, “and he says that autumn is, in some ways, warmer than spring.”
This is true even on a simply surface level; the red and orange hues that wash over the treeline resemble the warmth of the fireplace as the cold, long nights set in.
But, in a deeper way, although the temperatures are dropping, one is easily reminded of the cosy feelings of knitted jumpers instead of sundresses and cinnamon rolls in favour of Easter eggs.

It can be quite easy to forget to appreciate the little things, and as the days grow short and cold and wet, stopping on our walks to watch swans in the river or laughing as we get drenched in a surprise shower doesn’t come to mind.
A lesson that Keats can teach us, between his “flowery” poems and his letters praising Winchester for it’s fresh air, worth ‘sixpence a pint’, is to slow down.
Especially in the social media age, where some people even show signs of addiction to their smartphones, the next few months may be a perfect time to appreciate the natural beauty around us.

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

      For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Keats – ‘To Autumn’ (9-11)

We should also be wary that the autumn we experience isn’t the same as Keats’ – the UK experience a “false autumn” this year, where leaves fall and berries ripen before the end of summer, and many people wonder if the change between summer and winter is as smooth as it was even two decades ago.
Taking in our surroundings as they are now, on walks such as the Keats’ Trail, or in National Parks such as South Downs, can ground us and help us reconnect with nature.

In a way, To Autumn is not only an ode to the death we see in nature as the seasons transition from summer to winter, but it was also the last major work that Keats completed before his own untimely death at age 25.
There’s almost a sense of finality in his words; the acceptance that the lambs of spring are “full-grown”, the clouds spread over the “soft-dying day”, and there is a consistent imagery of death and mourning .