If I were a poet I would scribe an ode to fall, but alas rhyme is not one of my explicit talents. I enjoy the ride to work everyday observing the changing colors of the leaves, vivid orange, fiery red, dazzling yellow. Sometimes I've let my attention wander to the vistas of the fields and stand of trees showing off their plumage of blazing hues along the sides of the road. I think the deer are in cahoots with fall because they are leaping and running all over the country side as I make my may to and from work. There are wild turkeys strutting their stuff across the nearby landscape. Unfortunately though there has also been momentous amounts of "road kill", little creatures mashed into the pavement who didn't quite make it across the road.
The smell of fall is unique. Not quite the odor of dying vegetation, but a crispness in the air, frost's harbinger signaling time to rake the leaves and bring in the lawn furniture. Bright orange pumpkins, hearty mums set out on the front porch welcoming visitors to hearth and home.The near naked trees no longer hiding the house from the street. Soon it will be time to forage for the snow scraper and shovel in anticipation of the first early warnings of winter.
Regretfully, there are some less hearty souls afflicted with the seasonal pattern of depression who look upon fall as the precursor of winter and all the challenges of frigid temperatures and the falling of snow. Either way it's time to snuggle up to the wood burning stove and reclaim the corduroys and sweaters packed away in their plastic bins in the attic.
The children are now all grown up and I miss so much the excited preparations for Halloween. I so enjoyed planning and helping make the costumes, Freddy Krueger, witches and ghosts and of course a skeleton. Now all I have are pictures and remembrances of trick or treat.
When I was a kid, I harbor fond memories of our families and neighbors efforts raking the leaves. My intent was always to build a large enough pile to jump and roll around in. My parents would burn the piles of leaves at the curb in front of our house and I can still recall the scent of the burning leaves and my friends and I nearly scattering the orderly piles by our playing and then having to scoop them up again so they could be incinerated. The smoke never seemed to bother my eyes, instead enjoying fantasies of sending smoke signals to the Indians.
It's time to drag out the crock pot and concoct a hearty stew or soup. A little baking will be done and the confections frozen for the Thanksgiving holiday. The warm heat from the kitchen stove will be comforting as the nights begin to grow chilly and no complaints about there being brownies or muffins to eat.
Fall is the season that is a prelude to the long cold winter. A time to read books, sewing projects and of course free time to devote to the technological muse of the computer.
Living in a rural area of Northern New York, blogging now for over one year,learning as I go along,interests include reading, sewing,photography, being with family, following the Red Sox. I consider my attempts at blogging to be some type of journey involving self awareness and self acceptance, and oh yes, I do like to rant once in awhile!