Today is a slightly overcast day in South Florida. Its as close as we get here to anything that feels like fall. We’re going pumpkin-picking today. Well, we’re going to get pumpkins from a local pumpkin patch anyway.
Fall is my favorite time of year, hands down. It reaches way down into my soul year after year and finds what is sacred, beautiful, a bit melancholy, and spiritual and recenters me. There is something about it that transcends this lifetime. It’s as if I’ve always been there, even long before 1970, the year I was born.
Living in Plattsburgh, New York, circa 2005, we lived in the Mazda Miata of houses on Lake Champlain. I say that, because it had as much business roughing the winter as its automobile counterpart, the Miata. Not so much in the insulation department, it turned out. But we loved it anyway.
We had a view of Whiteface Mountain that, no matter the season, reached inside you and beckoned you to be a better person. It was just grounding and made you grateful to be alive and breathing. I remember telling my husband that it would be cool to take a picture of the same scenery for each of the seasons and frame them together as one piece of art. I really meant to do it, and I never did.
I was thinking about that this morning and realized that if I did that here in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida, the pictures would look almost exactly the same, with the small exceptions of the landscaping crew trimming back the palm trees or cutting the grass. There is something about it that just doesn’t feel right to me, that may keep me from calling this place home deep down inside of my soul. It feels, well, soulless to me.
There is something so comforting and wise about fall to me. I’m closing my eyes and picturing a damp, chilly day where the leaves are blown around by gusts of wind that feel a bit too cold for October. Funny, it was the same year after year, so we might have been used to it. But it always came as a surprise somehow.
Fall in the Northeast is its own personality. She is a fickle, old wise woman that has the experience of the sages to do whatever she wishes. And she does. And like an old woman, people complain about her moodiness, her darkness, her stubbornness, her unwillingness to do what they want.
I imagined being somewhere fall this year with Delaney surrounded by leaves, playing and experiencing for the first time the ambience of fall. I imagined her meeting my old friend, the wise woman, for the first time. In my mind, I saw the pictures we would have captured of her, her beauty just enhanced by the warm colors around her. I felt myself laying on the ground and rolling around, wondering if that was just the cold of the ground or if I was actually getting wet and not caring one bit.
I imagined throwing leaves all around Delaney and how she would have taken them in the same way she seems to take everything in, slowly and with great concentration. She might have rubbed them between her fingers and then tried to taste one and then mush one into the ground to see what happened if she did. And then with a burst of energy, she would have become playful, throwing them around, mimicking her father and I, her nose crinkling as she smiled that magical smile.
Instead, in music class we sing a song about fall and use leaves from the dollar store to throw up in the air and simulate throwing leaves. It’s very cute, don’t get me wrong. Delaney loves it, and that makes me happy. But somewhere, it’s a betrayal of that wise woman I grew up with and came to love in the depths of my soul.
The pumpkin patches that are set up in a few scant places here in South Florida are missing the corn mazes, apple cider, and kitchy knick-knacks that make up the autumn experience of apple- and pumpkin-picking. There is no smell of cider doughnuts in the air. There is no smell of damp leaves and dried mud from the previous night’s rainfall. On top of all of that, it’s still almost 90 degrees, and I’m wearing shorts and flip flops, instead of my favorite old jeans, oversized sweater, and clogs.
None of this is in any way a commentary on how happy I am in our new home. I’m adjusting quite nicely, and this is a great place to live for many reasons.
It’s a double-edged sword, I suppose. There are times I look around and think how nice it is that everything looks so clean and new.
And there are times I look around and think how boring it is that everything looks so clean and new. It’s like there is no history here. And certainly no fickle old woman calling the shots.
I look around and I wonder how she’s doing this fall, how she sees fit to be creating fall wherever you live. And my heart aches.
There is another piece to this. Much of my life has revolved in one way or another around fall, the start of fall, things that happened in the fall. My mother, daughter, and I are all September babies (5, 12, and 18, respectively). My parents were school teachers, so there was always that energy around the start of school and life kind of starting up again after the summer ended. I always loved it. I remember my parents’ separation and moving out of our big cobblestone house on a gray, chilly fall day. There are other events, too many to probably even remember, that have such significance to me and are tied to fall. It has simply been “my time” in so many ways throughout my life.
So, Autumn and I, we were symbiotic for a few months. I allowed myself to ebb and flow with her choices of weather, to give into the lure of the rainy, moody day and pull the covers over my head, or to playfully revel in the autumn sunshine that felt sometimes as if it originated inside of me, although I could clearly see where the it floated in the fall sky above.
Yes, I am missing you Autumn. I am missing you very much. And I look forward to meeting you face to face someday real soon.
What a beautiful piece…it makes me cry. I so wish you would submit some of your work to some magazines….you have the gift.
And, by the way, why not come home next fall for a week, the three of you, early in October, and enjoy those feelings for real, with real apples and real apple cider and leaves etc? We would love it.
Thanks for the memories…even the separation from your father isn’t such a bad memory anymore, because it has been replaced by a wonderful husband and a talented and remarkable grown daughter, a great son-in-law, and a sweet sweet little redhead. I love you all.
MD
MD
Well the good news is you can apple cider donuts next week at the farmers market in the gardens, I know that doesn’t compare, but hey it will be fun.
You so capture my feelings and emotions with your words, I feel like I’m reading my own story of sorts. Born a december baby I remember how it felt knowing that the fall meant the approach to yet another trip around the sun. Hearing the leaves crinkle while I walked on them was like a piece of music played by nature special for me. Smelling the wood burning in fire-places, feeling the chill of the wind and the warmth of a being bundled up and sipping on hot cocoa.
Being in florida really helped me realize just how much I loved the fall, especially watching the leaves change colors, it’s so magical. it’s a joy to be able to appreciate and relive those memories in my mind.
I understand what you say about calling this home, and I feel the same.
Thanks for bringing it back for me.
I agree with MD, this would be a wonderful piece for a magazine. Your are a magnificent writer-creator.
Love,
Lori
Hi, Lori:
I just got your comment to my blog. I forgot to check it, so I just found it. Thanks for your words . . .
It’s funny, isn’t it: the concept of “home” and what constitutes feeling it? It’s nice to know someone understands and has similar feelings.
And thanks for your comments on my writing. I am starting to try on the cloak of “writer-creator” a bit more frequently right now but am still a bit shy and insecure at times. This blog is a great way to test it out. I am starting to experiment a bit more with it and will continue to do so.
I’m sorry we just dropped off the face of the earth . . . I’d like to get together soon. Family is coming into town this week into late next, so maybe the following week, we can find each other?
I hope all is well in your world. Happy Anniversary, by the way, and let’s chat soon.
XO
C
Fall is certainly magical. You’re making me feel better about not living in Sunny Florida! Love reading your work.. keep it coming..