Feeling fall

It starts early, maybe even as far back as early August, I can sense the shift when the school supplies start showing up right after the Fourth of July actually.  I’m giddy walking up and down the aisles of crayons and pencils, a little disappointed that we are still overstocked from last year, but still intoxicated by colored pencil and marker options, the tiny erasers, the 3x5 cards and sticky notes. Memories from school days of yore fill my mind as I recall cigar boxes in lieu of these plastic colored types.  I remember new crayon and water color paint sets presented to us on day one, the thrill of finding out where my desk was and seeing my name in print (spelled with a C) on that thick strip of card stock with the the faint dashed blue line across it to separate the lower and upper-case letters.  I can hardly contain my enthusiasm as I note that fall is officially on the horizon.  It’s kind of the Thursday of seasons.  Most people would say Friday and Christmas are their favorites, but I like to back up just a titch and enjoy the anticipation of the Big days and savor the time before.  And just like that, over the years Friday and Christmas have been relegated to the back row and Thursday and fall have become my front seat companions, hands-down my favorites.

I’m the mom who gets out the buckets of fall decorations the first week school goes back, even when it’s not even September yet.  I can hardly suppress my smiles when I lift off the lid and inhale the cinnamon-scented candles I’d tucked away and remember the pillows I made that will line our couches.  I’m welcoming back old, familiar friends like a kid from high school whose picture flicks on Facebook, your memory surges with recollection; I’m thrilled at our reunion! Each item greets its fellow bedmates and they all chime in, beckoning me to remember why I love this season more than all the others. For the record, I’m not into holidays and forget to make a big deal about most of them until I see what all you folk are doing.  I know.  I would love to be that kind of mom, but I do make up for some of it with my enchantment for fall.  The leaves, the oranges and browns, the yellows and reds, the Indian corn and the apples, the pumpkin everything—from Life cereal to lip balm, the leaf-lined lawns and streets, the sound of tractors collecting their harvests, I inhale it all. 

I love the way the mornings turn on a dime.  One day I’m sending the kids out in their leftover summer shorts and then suddenly I’m reminding them to maybe take a sweatshirt for the morning.  We switch on the heating on the way to school.  Even when it’s still 70 during the day, mornings are a frosty 35.  But I’m loving it, the new crispness signals a change and awakens my senses.

I’m all of a sudden hearing geese gather.  I watch them glean the last bits from the fields across the road.  I can’t help but recall a talk I once read about the v-shape of Canadian geese flying, and the application teaches me again that we all take turns out in front and then in bringing up the rear.  I love the way they speak to each other, communicating in code specific to and understood by their friends.  I marvel, I can’t help myself.

It’s fire.  Not the summer wildfires that choked out our blue skies and made everyday hazy and unhealthy, but controlled wood burning in neighboring fireplaces.  As well as our own.  Even though it’s only in the 30s and 40s, there’s nothing more comforting and that says home more clearly than a cozy living room with the fireplace alit, warming both our bodies and souls. 

The leaves seem to shed a smell as they lose their grasp on their paternal branches and flitter downward. It’s the corn harvest in the fields nearby.  It’s just a difference in the air, a subtle concoction of familiar and remembered aromas that add to the ambience of fall.

It's the bluest of all skies.  Clear.  No clouds to maintain warmth or to block our view to endlessness.  The sky itself is a sign of fall, the most perfect backdrop for the vibrant colors that abound.

Our magazines start to take on an orange, burnt red hue. Leaf-littered country home walkways lead us to sheltering porches that boast a bounty of pumpkins and gourds, hay bales poised yet casual, and corn stalks clinging tightly to wooden posts.  Oh, the thrill of anticipation as I think of fresh flannel sheets, contacts out, and duties hung on the proverbial coat rack for the evening.  Todd will inevitably join me, as this is a treat neither can indulge in fully without the other.  We often tease if one starts to peruse one of our magazines without waiting.  It is a succulent tradition, perhaps a little old for our age, but one that brings us immense satisfaction.  I love the new cupcake and dinner recipes, the way they create new ideas of the same materials they've had to draw on for years.  I love the mantles, the themed parties they walk us through step by step, the ideas for streamlining our Halloween celebrations.  But most of all we just love meandering through beautiful homes at our leisure, discussing details we'd love to incorporate, others we can't believe they're trying to sell us. Such a cozy way to end the day.

It’s the requests and follow-throughs for soup and bread.  It’s thick slices of tall white loaves or rosemary French or oatmeal-whole wheat with sunflower seeds and flax seed.  It’s hearty elk stews with garden potatoes and onions, old favorites like creamy chicken with pasta and new tries like the lasagna variety from last year.  It’s our raspberry peach jam.  It’s lingering at the table because the night is already upon us, slowing our momentum and asking us to pause a little longer.  It’s apple crisp and apple pie.  It’s hearing the whir of our dehydrator and smelling the warming apples on its trays.  It’s dad’s apple juice and apple sauce that makes the most of even the most pitiful apples.

It’s those craft stores.  One of my favorite indulgences as a stay-at-home mom, a little pit-stop under the pretense of needing bobbins.  I’ll linger.  Even though heaven knows I’m certainly not going to craft.  I’m just here to take it all in.  To inhale the cinnamon pinecones, to handle the leafy fabrics, to check out the candle section.  I consider the fall napkins, occasionally—but rarely—indulging.  I feel the runners and tablecloths and marvel at the current trends for home decor (wondering to myself how long till it will all show up at Good Will but loving it all the same).  I admire the creations displayed on tack boards by talented women, funny little quilted pieces, pillows, (have I seen vests?) and assorted holiday-themed tableware.  I’m enraptured with the aisles of leaf garlands, tiny versions of pumpkins and acorns in what are called “picks” for wreaths.  Fascinating, so much variety, so much fodder for the imagination.  I take it all in, creating in my mind settings for various pieces in my own home but reminding myself I have plenty.  It’s a marvelous excursion for my senses and I offer this field trip to myself often throughout the season, kind of like other women’s chocolate stashes hidden in the back of desk drawers.

I like how the early dark draws us in, like a hen gathering her chicks.  I ‘m grateful for how I don’t have to say a word, the opaque night does my talking for me.  I shrug with mock disappointment that Todd will just have to work inside tonight, so sorry he’ll have to leave the fencing for another Saturday afternoon.  The caulking isn’t dry yet?  Bummer.  Nonchalantly I’ll meander to my country harvest puzzle, silently encouraging him to join me.  Before long he’ll make the fire.  The kids will bring their homework and reading down to cuddle in front of our fireplace.  Someone will make some hot chocolate.  The dogs will find their cozy spot beside us.  I caught a glimpse of  heaven just this week as four of us were reading in just this manner late one night.  I made an indelible print in my mind to save for later.

And so, I welcome the north breezes.  After a demanding summer, I’m ok with putting the garden to bed for a rest for awhile.  I’m good with coming in, with focusing on inside projects for a season.  I’m eager to try new soups and breads.  I’m anticipating fall gatherings with friends and family who bear pumpkin spiced desserts and will indulge me in quality conversation by our fire.  I’m excited to dig into to my book pile that’s been waiting patiently like a dear friend in a cafe when you’re running late on a blustery afternoon.  I’m craving my extended family’s company, I love creating a respite for them and other visitors as well as my in-home family, a cozy reprieve from the winds and cares of the world.  So yes, fall is in the air.  And in our home.  And deep in my heart.  In my mind, it’s the most wonderful time of the year.