Fall is traditionally a season where we seem to close in our ourselves. Leaves start to give us indications that they will soon change into their fall clothes, geese start thinking about flying to warmer climes, and those that began the slow exodus to summer retreats begin their journeys home. The nights get cooler, the weather is often variable, and school begins again. Summer clothes are put away and the fall ones start to emerge from closets, cedar chests, and drawers. It’s a perfect time to curl up with our favourite fantasy series and contemplate the changing seasons.
At home, some of us pull out our crockpots, or our Instant Pots and our minds wander looking for recipes for new soups, stews, or chilis to try. Plug it in and forget was the slogan of the crockpot so many years ago. And the Instant Pot has allowed us to “step up our soup game,” cooking whole meals in half the time it would take in an oven or on the stove top. Our lives are so busy now, with kids and their activities, long work hours, and appointments, that the thought of coming home to a meal that’s already made for us is ideal. Time is not a luxury most of us have so spending less of it cooking dinner is always helpful.
For me, more so when I was younger, Fall meant saying goodbye to my beloved cottage in Southampton. Putting on shutters, turning off water, and saying goodbye to those I wouldn’t see until next year. The cottage was a refuge for me. I spent most of my summers curled up in a hammock, or at the beach reading while people swam, built sand castles, and played with their friends. I fell in love with Booky, Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew, and Julie of the Wolves. The library soon kept books aside for me they knew I’d enjoy. Thinking back, I’m sure that’s where I developed such a love for reading. The long, seemingly endless summers, where all I did was read. So closing up meant saying goodbye to friends I had made through those books.
Now, Fall means hauling out my fuzzy sweaters (okay, who am I kidding, I’ve never put them away) snuggling under reams of fuzzy blankets (have you detected a theme here?) and hunkering down. Where I burrow as far as I can into those blankets until the Spring sun peeks its head from around the corner. But, before I turn into a hibernating bear, we try to take a trip to look at the leaves in their brilliant coats of oranges, reds and yellows. And, inevitably, along the way I’ll scare the pants off my poor spouse by hollering, “OLD CEMETERY” or “GHOST TOWN” and after he recovers, we’ll stop while I wander through imagining the lives of the long gone residents or those at quiet rest. My spouse often tells me that my demeanor changes in Cemeteries or wandering about ghost towns. I firmly believe it’s because I am also nurturing my other love…history.
Fall means different things for each person, but curling up with a good book, on a cool night, snuggled under a warm blanket is something we all can enjoy.