Years ago, when “Color Me Beautiful” was all the rage, I “had my colors done.” I turned out to be an “Autumn,” which didn’t surprise me in the least - in every possible way, from my reddish hair to the deepest reaches of my soul, I am a fall girl. This morning as I walked the dogs I felt that first snap of cold in the air, and saw leaves on the sidewalk, rendered terrestrial by two days of heavy rains. They were an indescribable scarlet, surrendering their lives in a blaze of color that jumped up from the dull, gray concrete and made me smile. It’s coming.
I know that there are people who adore summer, and who bitterly mourn the end of heat, light, blooming flowers and lazy days by the pool. I try to understand that, but my own yearning is for the end of that indolence and warmth. As the air grows cooler, the days shorten, and the leaves turn from endless green to an assortment of reds and golds, I feel a surge of energy and possibility. School starts, sweaters come out of storage, and there is a pencil-scented air of fresh starts. I will no longer feel vaguely sticky and frizzy all the time, and I can put away the light, bright clothes that seemed so fresh at the end of May, and now seem limp and exhausted. It is time for cashmere and long sleeves, flannel and layers in the richest browns, deepest greens and bravest shots of orange.
There is a faint smell of wood smoke in the air, which I have to be imagining because it’s been illegal to burn leaves here since I was in high school. Still, it’s there, along with the sound of the college marching band practicing the fight song. There are football games, tailgate parties, and the Homecoming Parade with fleece-jacketed children scrambling to catch the candy thrown by passing dignitaries, and stuffing some into their cold-pinked cheeks even though it’s Right Before Dinner.
I also love the fall holidays best. I no longer trick or treat, and Sam is too old for a costume parade at school, but there is still some vestigial magic in a cool, October night with miniature ballerinas and Spidermen around every corner. Thanksgiving brings my family together around a starched tablecloth, eating exactly what we always ate after many feints at “having something different, you know, just to make it more interesting.” We don’t really want it to be “interesting;” we want a warm, glowing beacon of connection to bring us together and illuminate how really lucky we are to have so much.
I delight ridiculously in pumpkins, squashes, and apples…I could write for several days just about the apples. The smell of an orchard, the selection of the best specimens from tree and ground, a day spent stomping among the benevolent trees that offer us hundreds of round, red/green packages of bliss. I know it’s all science, but I prefer to see it as magic, like the trip to the pumpkin field to choose the specimens that best fit our plans for a scary face, a lacy artistic rendering, or (in my case) random stars and moons. There is also the cider, which I believe to be the actual drink of the Gods (do they have apples in Greece?), the Butternut Squash soup, the apple pie, the apple cakes, and the homemade applesauce that makes the house smell like the home of the cider-drinking deities. Even as I mourn the end of the heirloom tomatoes, the crisp corn and the jar of Basil on my kitchen windowsill, I am buoyed by the rich promise of Things That Go With Cinnamon. Because how could that be bad?
Try not to mourn, you summer people. There really are seasons for everything and everyone, and you have had months of linens, tan skin and sandals. Be happy for those of us who come alive with the first thread of chill in the hot, moist air; this is our time to bloom and glow in sync with the natural world. Did I mention cashmere and homemade applesauce? You’ll love it.
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Heather Siegel
Reflecting On History
Anne Cameron Cutri
meghill
TaosGirl
clay ball
Salon.com
Comments
This is a beautiful tribute to all things fall.
I adore every season, for different reasons. While I'm a bit sad to see summer leave, this morning, a squirrel with a stuffed mouth dropped an acorn on my head, an extra he was trying to carry in his paws. The beautiful little nest that the chickadees built on my walk route is empty. My fridge is full of tart sweet crispy apples from the farmer's market, and yesterday, I spent meeting with students. This is where I mark the beginning of a new year, and always have. Happy New Year, my friend!
Thanks for expressing your love of fall so eloquently. My thoughts exactly.
Beautifully expressed as always, Ann.
Fall is fabulous. It's full of vivid foliage, crisp air, and I so love spicey hot apple cider.
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Lovely post as usual. :)
Beautiful as usual!
Here us a poem written to that effect about ten years ago.
NOTICING SPRING
I just noticed
I don't have to wear the top of my sweat suit
I love it
that top
so sweet and soft
cuddly protection
a security blanket
I just noticed
the leaves on the pomogranet tree
are tiny and gold
pointed and small
so stingy
but promising
greeness and fruit
soon
I just noticed
all my writer friends
are writing
mostly poetry
an ode to love
another to the wind
and getting old
without aging
Here I am
doing it too
I just noticed
it's here at last
SPRING.
sequel
I wish winter were here
It's not even fall
hot dry days
nights promising coolness
but not yet
I wish the dry heat
from high pressure inland
would draw in cool breezes
waiting over the seacoast
I wish I had watered the plants more often
everything is getting brown . . . and crisp
everything looks dead.
I wish it would rain.
--
make new synapses every dayi
Rated.
I could do without the temperature extremes of winter and summer, and I like springtime -- except for all of the pollen, which requires me to pop generic Claritin like candy.
So fall is the best of all worlds -- moderate temperatures, beautiful colors and no allergies... And, of course, the holidays. (The Latino culture's Day of the Dead I love, too.)
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