Fall. Autumn. October. Three of my favorite things, all wrapped up into one. After a horribly hot, arid, and miserable summer, plants and lawns that weren’t killed off completely this past July and August are starting to go green again, thanks to the occasional rain, and the cooler temperatures.
There’s nothing better than sitting on the deck after dark on a late September or early October night that renews the spirit. (Well, almost nothing - the deck could be on a lake. Hopefully in retirement…) Come early fall on my deck, the air is crisp, free of the heavy humidity of late spring and summer. The stars show brilliantly in the sky, although not as brilliantly as they did 12 years ago when we were still out in the county. The encroachment of civilization has brought with it those pesky night time lights that make it harder to see those stars. Parking lots, headlights, porch lights, and those turn-night-time-into-day lights at the high school football field, tennis courts, and soccer field unfairly dim that which God has given. Still, sitting on the deck and listening to the sounds of homecoming cheers from the high school just under a mile away, is kind of a neat and homey feeling, right along with the crash into the screen door of the last of the June bugs, and the chirp of crickets who are slowly looking for a way to access my home for the winter.
Sitting out on the deck, sporting a sweater to ward off the chill, I think of the days when all I could see behind me were soybean fields, forest, cattle, the hills in which the county lake is nestled, and more than a body’s fair share of deer, coyotes, turkeys, possums, raccoons, skunks, and the ever present sounds of, but only occasional glance of, bob-white and pheasant. I’m glad it at least lasted while Eric was in his formative years. My mind is filled with moments of my son and his friends high up in Fort EJ in our back yard, backpacks filled with juice and snacks, fishing line, dry shoes and socks, binoculars in hand, as they planned their assault on the bad guys out there in the wilderness. Some days they were the cavalry, others WWII soldiers, still others the native Shawnee who once lived on this very piece of land which we now call home, or even James Butler (Wild Bill) Hickok, who was constable here in 1858. As soon as the farmer harvested the soybeans and the field was stubble, the kids took off for the woods and the creek (durable walkie-talkies on their belts in case they needed help from home), hunting for bad guys, arrowheads, cool rocks, and the greatest prize ten year old boys could ever find – petrified animal poop. It made me envious. Being brought up in a home where there were things girls just didn’t do (sports, play outside, ride bikes, etc.) it made me wonder that if I had been brought up in the country instead of the heart of a big city, would I have been allowed the freedom to explore that I subsequently gave my son? I doubt it, but that was also the 50‘s when girls were girls and still had to wear dresses to school and gloves and a hat to church. It could be why today, I love being outside even more.
Another thing I love in autumn is sunflowers. They grow all year, but there’s something about them in the fall that makes them pop. It could be because a lot of the other vegetation is dying, or maybe because the corn, beans, wheat, and whatever have all been harvested and now we can see that majestic yellow waving freely against that impossibly blue sky with those great fluffy, white, cotton candy clouds. One year for my birthday, my neighbor went out to the field, cut some sunflowers and made the most gorgeous arrangement I’ve ever seen. There’s something so inherently cheerful about those big yellow blooms that make me instantly squeal and smile when I see some while driving along. Even though this is the sunflower state, people around here consider them more of a nuisance and don’t see the beauty…then again I love looking at that ol’ invasive species known as kudzu. They way it creeps up poles and across abandoned buildings, creating really cool sculptures in what seems like a mere hours is amazing. I need to take a drive along my favorite river road to take a look at it before it starts to die back for the winter, then I’ll go back, camera in hand, in the third week in October or so, once the leaves are in their deepest colors.
Brown is my least favorite color, and unfortunately, in this neck of the woods, brown is the main color we see for good seven or eight months out of the year, so with autumn comes another thing I love – the leaves, or as an acquaintance once said in a deep, deep southern accent, “Oh, mercy, the leaves.” After this house was built 12 years ago, I met with the landscape designer and had exacting requirements for the trees he would choose. I wanted a variety of colors and textures – even in winter, and by golly, Rick delivered. The builder planted two unsightly ornamental pears in front, and a sad little crab tree in the back (which has long since met it’s maker along with one of the pears…good old Kansas storms are to blame.) Rick added four luscious columnar Norway maples in the front because the house is tall and angular looking from the street. In the fall, the purplish red of the pear leaves against the deep yellow of the maples is stunning against the darker green of the house, and in winter, the color contrast between the wood of the pears and maples is quite nice. In the back, we have a thornless, seedless honey locust whose small feather-like leaves turn yellow, as does the Oklahoma redbud’s large heart-shaped leaves. The corkscrew willow with its definitive corkscrew shaped branches also turns a lovely yellow, and all three of those trees balanced against the absolutely brilliant red/orange of the Tupelo tree in the far back (also known as sour gum or black gum) is amazing. In the winter, against the snow, the different branch structure of those four trees is stunning. I love my trees. When I move from here, a deal breaker on a new house may very well be not the size and layout of the rooms, but the size of the deck, the yard, the quantity and type of trees, and is there a body of water within sight, not to mention is the temperature decent enough I can enjoy them all year…..not just for a few fleeting weeks.
Then there are the smells of autumn, which are smells of comfort…..wood from fireplaces, the earthiness of decaying leaves, chrysanthemums and autumn clematis in full bloom, a big pot of marinara from next door, a roast from my own oven, and the headiness of warm chocolate cake wafting over from the house on the other side, all combine to say ‘Welcome home. Take a load off and sit a spell.” It’s like a big, warm, intense hug from a big, warm intense friend. Safety. Security. Love.
Winter is cold, unfriendly rejection, spring is a first crush, all new and giggly, summer is an I-don’t-have-the–will-to-care languid few months, but autumn… Autumn is love in full bloom, mature, patient, and oh so very fleeting, but right now, it’s here, and I intend to enjoy it while it lasts.
