Lin Yutang’s Autumnal Wisdom: A Seasonal Reflection on Life and Nature

November 14, 1895

On this day, dear readers and fellow admirers of nature's ever-changing tapestry, we celebrate the birth of a most remarkable individual: Lin Yutang, the Chinese inventor, writer, and translator whose words would bridge the gap between East and West, much like a skilled gardener grafting two distinct varieties to create a more robust whole.

Lin Yutang would grow to become a literary luminary, his English translations of Chinese classics blossoming into bestsellers in the Western world. One can almost picture him, hunched over his desk, carefully tending to each word and phrase, nurturing the delicate seedlings of understanding between two vastly different cultures.

But it is not for his translations alone that we gather in our virtual garden today.

No, it is for a most exquisite piece of prose, a veritable bouquet of words that captures the very essence of the seasons.

Allow me to share with you Lin Yutang's reflections on the cycle of nature:

I like spring, but it is too young.

I like summer, but it is too proud.

So I like best of all autumn, because its tone is mellower, its colours are richer, and it is tinged with a little sorrow.

Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age.

It knows the limitations of life and its content.

Oh, what a feast for the senses these words provide!

Let us, for a moment, stroll through the garden of Lin Yutang's imagination, savoring each seasonal morsel he has so artfully laid before us.

First, we encounter spring, with its youthful exuberance.

Can you not picture the tender shoots pushing through the soil, the buds swelling with potential, the whole world awash in a sea of green?

And yet, Lin Yutang finds it "too young." Perhaps he sees in spring's innocence a lack of depth, a beauty not yet tempered by experience.

Then comes summer, resplendent in its glory. The garden is in full bloom, each flower a testament to nature's power and vitality. But for our wise observer, summer is "too proud." One might imagine he finds its beauty too brazen, its abundance lacking in subtlety.

But ah, autumn! Here is where Lin Yutang's heart truly lies, and can we blame him?

Picture, if you will, the garden in its autumnal splendor.

The riotous blooms of summer have given way to a more subdued palette, yet one richer in its complexity. The golden hues of turning leaves, the deep purples of late-blooming asters, the warm oranges of ripening pumpkins - all combine to create a symphony of color that speaks of maturity and wisdom.

And is this not, dear gardeners, a reflection of our own journey through life?

Do we not, like the autumn garden, acquire a certain mellowness with age?

Our experiences, both joyous and sorrowful, add depth to our character, much like the "little sorrow" that Lin Yutang finds so appealing in the fall season.

As we tend to our gardens, watching them transition through the seasons, let us take a moment to appreciate the wisdom in Lin Yutang's words.

Let us find beauty not just in the fresh promise of spring or the bold statements of summer, but also in the subtle, complex tones of autumn.

For it is in this season, with its "kindly wisdom of approaching age," that we may discover the most profound contentment.

And perhaps, as we rake leaves or plant bulbs for the coming spring, we might reflect on our own seasons of life.

May we, like the autumn garden, grow ever more beautiful with age, our experiences adding rich layers of color to our personal landscapes.

May we, like Lin Yutang, learn to appreciate the "golden richness" of our mature years, embracing both the limitations and the contentment they bring.

For in the end, are we not all like gardens, constantly changing, growing, and adapting?

And is not the true art of living, like the art of gardening, to find beauty and meaning in every season?