As the autumn equinox tips us gently into the darker half of the year, I find myself staring at my apple tree. Its boughs are heavily laden with fruit, so much so I have feared that those still juvenile branches may struggle, especially now the wind seems a little more restless! The whole tree leans over at a precarious angle making me feel guilty that I haven’t paid it enough attention through a difficult summer. At the same time, I marvel at this little tree – how it has produced these amazing apples through the heat and drought of the last few months, and how it still remains standing. Just as the light is now balanced, just so, between day and night, I wonder if perhaps my little apple tree is more balanced than I thought. The weather too is rebalancing – after all the sun, we are getting a lot of rain – perfect for fattening up those beautiful apples! The ground beneath is already dotted with fallen apples, some bruised, but others perfect in their imperfection.
Not quite summer, not quite winter. The in-between. A hinge in the year. It is a time that asks us to pause, notice, and honour both the abundance and the release that autumn brings. Whilst the leaves are beginning to drift from their branches in the forest, so to are my apple tree apples beginning to fall. Such a generous little tree!
The apple, in so many traditions, holds deep symbolic weight. It is a fruit of wisdom, of hidden knowledge, of wholeness. Slice it horizontally, and you’ll find a five-pointed star tucked within - a symbol of balance, of the five elements, of the harmony we seek both in the forest and in ourselves.
Have you heard the tale of the Apple Tree Man? In the story, a humble farmer, with little left to his name, offers his last mug of spiced cider to the oldest apple tree in his orchard – a simple gesture of thanks. In return, the Apple Tree Man reveals to him the location of buried treasure, enough to see him through the winter and beyond.
This exchange of gratitude given, wisdom revealed, reminds me that nature responds to care and presence. That offerings, even small ones, echo outward.
Beyond its symbolism, the apple is also a medicine in its own right. An apple a day keeps the doctor away so the saying and the latest research goes -we still don’t know all the amazing benefits this fruit offers us! What has been established is that they are rich in fibre, supporting digestion and gut health. Their antioxidants help reduce inflammation, while their natural sweetness makes them a gentle way to nourish the body.
With every crisp bite, we take in not just nourishment, but centuries of wisdom passed down through orchard and season. And each season has its own voice, its own medicine.
Autumn whispers in rustles, copper and gold. It invites us inward, toward stillness, reflection, and release. Which brings me on to mention my first book The Gold Season: A Guide to Autumn Forest Bathing and Connecting with the British Season.
It is my invitation to you to step into the woods and experience the beauty of autumn with fresh eyes. The first in a four-book series exploring the seasons, this volume reflects on the golden landscapes of Britain as leaves fall, light softens, and the air turns crisp.
Rather than offering instructions or rigid practices, it opens a space for stillness, attention, and presence - a meditation on the seasons of Britain, seen through the lens of forest bathing. Through lyrical reflections and gentle prompts, it encourages readers to slow down, notice the subtle details of the season, and reconnect with the living world.
I think of this book, too, as an apple: grown slowly, shaped by weather and wonder, filled with seeds that I hope might take root in others.
Whether read in the quiet of your home, or carried into the woods, I hope that this volume will be an autumnal invitation to live more closely with the natural world, one season at a time. This is my harvest, my offering.
And so, as Apple Day approaches in a celebration of orchard heritage, fruitfulness, and local lore, I want to offer you a simple invitation.
Find an apple. Hold it in your hand. Notice its weight, its scent, its colour. Then, cut it through its equator to find the five-pointed star at its centre. Perhaps ask yourself:
- What am I harvesting in my life right now?
- What wisdom has this season gifted me?
- What might I gently let go of?
You might journal your answers or simply breathe them into the trees the next time you walk among them.
With golden leaves and quiet joy,
Janice
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