Each year, I change my mind on which season I like best. In the spring, I delight in warm breezes and pastel colors after a winter of ice and sleet and cold.
But then, after the lazy, humid, and often dry days of summer, I am ready for this new season: Fall. In the autumn, I dance with the leaves as they twirl their way down from the trees.
I love fall. Crisp, cool air, invigorating breezes, and clear skies remind me it’s that time again. Time for tasting apple cider and cinnamon-spiced apple goodie. Time to revel in brilliant shades of mums and pumpkins dotting our Southside. Time to hear the plunk of acorns and nuts falling in the backyard. Time to watch the scurry of squirrels from tree trunks to branches in our back yard. Time to wonder at the striking orange of maples, brilliant scarlet of oak trees, and vibrant amber of towering walnuts.
Ladybugs and spiders are disappearing, and I am reminded – again – that the fruits of our labors will be enjoyed for another winter. Canning jars in the cellar are more full than empty. Apple pie filling waits to be spooned into a homemade crust and baked at the request of my pre-teen. I have been informed there will be many requests coming from him because he helped can the pie filling.
One day I sent Aaron to the cellar to get tomato juice. It took him longer than it should have . . .
[you can finish the story and find out why it took him so long by clicking here]