A Few Things I Love about Fall

"The day I see a leaf is a marvel of a day." ~Kenneth Patton (courtesy of my friend Bonnie Bruno)

A Few Things I Love About Fall:

leaves in full glory, giving glory to their Creator
pumpkins of every size as far as the eye can see
clear blue cloudless sky
little kids wearing orange
blue jeans and sweaters and rugged old shoes
apples
applesauce
apple cinnamon anything
fall festivals
the smell of a fire
chilly temperatures that turn noses pink
colorful scarves handmade by my nieces and my friend
flannel pajama pants on Sunday afternoons
cozy evenings at home
giving thanks

How about you? What do you love about the fall?

Picking Flowers in the Fall

Yesterday I was out of town with my daughter (which is why I'm just posting today). When we came home, we took our dog for a walk. It was another warm, beautiful fall day--I know I'm going to miss these days when the weather turns cold. As we neared the house, I told my daughter I wanted to show her something. After putting our dog in the house and grabbing some old kitchen shears, we trudged through crunchy leaves in the front yard. Extremely wide, our front yard curves out toward the street so that when you're in the driveway you can't see where the lawn ends. But you can see what's growing there.

Looking at the scissors in my hand, she asked, "Are we going to pick flowers?" I nodded as we walked toward the large camellia tree that we tend to forget about until it blooms in the fall and late winter. And boy is it putting on a show right now! It's absolutely covered with blooms and with buds that will soon be ready. Dark, waxy leaves highlight the delicate white flowers with tinges of pink on the petals. 

When the camellia blooms again in the winter, I will ask the same rhetorical question I always ask: how can a flower so fragile survive such cold weather? It looks like it belongs to April or May, yet I'm glad it doesn't wait until then. Seeing its beauty in the dead of winter heartens me. It reminds me that spring is coming--not right away but soon enough.

My daughter and I chose a few flowers and snipped them off. She was surprised to see the petals of the mature ones falling even as we gathered them, so we picked buds that look like they open in a day or two. I hope they do. With pumpkins, mums, and fall leaves ruling outdoors this time of year, it's nice to have fragile-looking, spring-like beauty inside.

The Fragrance of Fall

Today as we were walking the dog, a light breeze blew across my face, bringing with it the scent of fall. It's a crisp but smoky smell, even when there's no fire. It's so different from the scent of the other seasons. It says, "Change is coming!" 

The sense of smell is not one we typically think of as a conduit for beauty. But certain fragrances call to my mind memories of beauty from the past. 

For instance, a few years ago, I visited a centuries-old church while on vacation. The smell of the burning candles followed me to every corner of that building. As I looked at the historic frescoes and the architecture, the fragrance of the candles deepened the experience for me. I can smell them now.

Another fragrance that calls to mind an experience of beauty was the flowers in my wedding bouquet. Stargazer lilies, purple stock, delphiniums, blue iris, and seafoam statice with a purple ribbon made a breathtaking arrangement. As I held the gorgeous bouquet in my hand, the fragrance accompanied me throughout the most beautiful day of my life. Whenever I'm near a stargazer now, the scent takes me back to that day.   

Now, as fall continues to unfold and the leaves curl and come down, my daughter will soon remind me about one of her favorite things to do. Last year, on a warm fall afternoon, we raked a huge pile of leaves in the front yard and jumped in them. We hopped in and kicked, and threw leaves at each other. I took several photos of her but of course the camera couldn't capture the fragrance in the air. But some aspects of beauty simply can't be captured. Beauty has to be enjoyed in the moment, treasured and remembered for years to come.

Pocketful of Petals

Though we don't have any, cherry trees are popular in our area. Several of them grace the grounds at my daughter's school. One breezy spring day, while I was walking down the sidewalk next to her building, I noticed piles of pink cherry blossom petals against the curb. The wind had collected and deposited them at my feet. They still looked fresh--pink and delicate and perfect. I had the urge to lean down, gather them up and stuff them in my pockets for later--maybe for some cold day in January when the winter landscape stretches as far as the eye can see. Or for some afternoon in late summer when it's so hot we can't stay outside for long and the days are racing toward the start of the school year. If only those petals could bring spring, my favorite season, back again with its abundant beauty.

But then I'd miss fall--the spectacular leaves, the blessedly cooler temperatures, the crisp fragrance of change. And winter, with its strange and spare beauty, cold air making freckled noses pink and your breath turn to steam. I'd miss winter's promise of spring, of new life inside the cold earth. The anticipation of renewal, resurrection.

As beautiful as those petals were, I couldn't hold onto them any more than I can hold onto time itself. And despite the imminent end of summer, I'm looking forward to seeing the leaves put on their show before floating to the earth and becoming part of what's to come.

Just Another Day at the Farm

It’s fall. A beautiful, warm day at the pumpkin farm. The brilliant blue sky fills in the background behind a row of pines, green as ever. A red-roofed pavilion houses displays of Indian corn, boxes of grotesque gourds, and parents with little ones. A maple tree, tall and bent a little, shows off orange leaves, not to be outdone by the profusion below. The orange of the pumpkins explodes against brown dirt and yellow hay.

It’s our second annual visit with her grandparents. She’s two this time and can walk and even run among the misshapen, mutant-looking pumpkins. She’s looking at the camera with eyes squinting in the late morning sunlight. Light bounces off long blond hair as she stands next to a group of the largest pumpkins, their shadows taller than she is. Her hands are clasped together uneasily, plump little fingers gripping themselves. The blue of her shirt, her plaid overalls, even her eyes, reflects the blue above her. Her toddler tennis shoes are too white but won’t be for long. She’s half-smiling, unsure and even a little confused. “What are these things, Mama? Will they get me?”

The photo hangs on my inspiration board—a memory of a day filled with many types of beauty.