Fall & Memories

Finally, it is beginning to feel like autumn! Those hot, humid days well into October have not felt at all like fall. Thankfully, we've received enough rain and a few cool nights, so the trees are beginning to show their brilliant colors... and it's about time!

The most beautiful tree is a maple in my back yard. That tree, a mere sapling at the time, was hand-picked by Elsie Wilson when Jim and I moved into this house. She marked it with a ribbon because of its beautiful range of colors so Doc would know which one to dig up to bring to Greenville. Every fall, that maple, which stands gloriously tall now, resembles Moses' burning bush... it is aflame with gorgeous yellows, oranges and reds. And, every fall, I have a few moments of sweet, sad memories of a mother-in-law who took such care in making sure we had a tree from "back home" that was beautiful. I've actually been agonizing that, if I move in the near future, can I get a cutting rooted so I can take a piece of the tree with me? I'll have to check with my yard man to see...because I'm not sure I can do without that tree every fall.

Autumn was always my favorite season, partially because of my birthday, but also because it seems like the whole world puts on a full-color show right before everything goes dormant for the winter. Growing up, my family always took a trip to the beautiful North Carolina mountains in the fall on a weekend near my birthday. We took a picnic lunch, including a birthday cake, and rode around admiring the myriad of colors of trees in the "hills". Often we stopped at a roadside stand and bought apples and apple cider before heading home. In 1970, when Jim and I got married, I was a bit sad that I wouldn't get to do the annual trip because of our wedding. How wonderful it was when I discovered that he planned our honeymoon in the hills of Virginia and North Carolina, giving me another reason to make fall my favorite season. It has been many years since I've taken such a pilgrimage, but I find myself thinking about it every fall.

One fall, only a year or two after my marriage, Jim and I were in Madison for a weekend. Elsie was up late on Friday night pre-cooking some of the meats and preparing the vegetables. Saturday morning, a fire was built under a huge cast iron pot in the back yard, and, with the help of Doc, Jim, and Hopper, we combined all the meats and vegetables, many of which came from Doc's garden, in that pot. I can still remember the cool, crisp air combined with the smell of wood smoke and brunswick stew...the best I ever tasted. And, as cool as the weatherman says it will get tonight, a big bowl of homemade stew would taste wonderful!

Having been a science teacher, I know that the shorter amount of daylight coupled with the cooler temperatures causes the chlorophyll in the leaves to stop working and changes the leaf color. I prefer to think some kind of magic has been performed, and that the trees are refusing to go quietly into the cold, dark days of winter. They rage against that prospect with all the fire and emotion they can muster, and I love it every year!