Autumn Sparkles in Arts Performance

By Dixie Hayes

   Autumn is my favorite season of the year. Once the new school year begins, the spirit of autumn seems to magically materialize. The long, hot, and hazy unstructured days of summer surrender to approaching months of disciplined schedules  of the new season that will  carry us through the year until summer comes again.
   Fall is a beautiful season where the  daytime autumn sky sparkles with  its own hue of azure blue, a shade that is not replicated during any other season of the year. Shorter days and longer nights produce chilly, dewy dawns that surrender to mild, sun-drenched afternoons inviting us to the outdoors. Warm west winds whip up  momentum, swirling dust and dry leaves into mini cyclones that spin themselves into extinction. Meanwhile, creepy, crawly spiders continue to diligently weave their intrinsic webs, creations  that are annihilated by the whirling breezes.
   It’s an annual  autumn delight to cheer our favorite team at football games  beneath
Friday night lights, to roast juicy wieners over a crackling open fire, to sip warm apple cider from a paper cup,  and to toast our toes in front of the indoor fireplace on a chilly evening. We gather pumpkins to stand guard on the porch  until the appointed carving day,  and decorate our door with multi-colored ears of Indian corn whose husks fan out to create a crunchy bouquet.
   Every year, Mother Nature perfects her artsy performance, painting leaves and bushes from her pallet of colors that range from  golden yellow to orange, bronze, copper, and burgundy, with a dabble  of red for drama. And after  colorful leaves tumble from  stately branches, the nippy air is filled with the swirling, acrid smoky aroma of burning leaves that have been stirred together with  fallen tree limbs and underbrush  to create a grand bon fire that is  perfect for roasting marshmallows on the end of a very long stick.
   In our yard, busy squirrels with their tails at attention in the air like proud plumes, scamper across the lawn in search of their winter food bounty, and agile deer graze in the harvested fields across the road, always with a cautionary eye to the possible approach of humans. Neighbors’ children gleefully frolic in piles of crunchy, raked leaves, continuing an autumn ritual of generations past, and the apple orchard down the road beckons us with its fallen fruit that dots the ground in shades of autumn-hued green and red.     I embrace  the tepid days when we finally shut off the air conditioning and open the windows to allow the season (and allergens!) into our home, and  nights that remain comfortable without the the drone of a furnace. Outdoors,  I love the purple haze that, at dusk,  settles over and blankets naked farm fields  stripped of corn and beans, and at night I relish the full-bodied, yellow orb that shines through the windows and fills our sleepy home with snow white harvest moon light.
   I am so fond of fall because  the season evokes warm, pleasurable childhood memories for me, memories that have been tucked far away in the cobwebby corners of my mind. Autumn meant walking home from school when the sun shone so warmly on me that I shed the sweater I donned in the morning to chase away the early chill. When I walked through the door, Mom’s after-school kitchen, warmed with the fragrance of freshly baked apple cobbler and pumpkin pie, was a welcome-home memory I savor and cherish. 
   Today, I cheerfully continue the seasonal rituals that bring me so much pleasure. I still take joy watching  colorful oak, maple, and elm leaves lazily tumble and drift from their summer perches. I cheer when our grandchildren rake leaves and fallen crunchy acorns  into the pile they demolish with one boisterous belly flop. In the kitchen,  I  still follow Mom’s hand-written recipes  on batter-splattered cards to bake apple cobbler and pumpkin pies that smell so delightful and taste beyond luscious, and then we  wash the confections  down with warm, cinnamon-laced cider. And on the kitchen table, a basket of colorful apples takes center stage, a constant reminder of our abundant bounty.
   I delight in this season of the year, putting out of my mind what yet is to descend upon us before summer comes calling again. My hope is that someday, many harvest moons from now, our children and grandchildren will experience the same  delicious autumn memories I cherish of my favorite season, and they, too, will remember what fall was like in my little corner of the world.