Don’t miss fall to find Christmas
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- November 12, 2023
- 907
Autumn into winter requires talking about.
Never mind the flamboyant shades that slowly creep into our landscapes, each leaf turning its own private shade of ombre, or the hills that have taken on that smudged, smoky look that fill your lungs. It’s a feeling that overtakes you suddenly, with the onset of hours slowly darkening our evenings one insolent minute at a time, and you realize the heat of the day has evaporated into the cool of night and the insidious humidity has vanished. All that’s left are breathable moments of wonder, a reprieve from a heat that knocked you off your feet mere weeks earlier.
Born mid-October when the trees paraded their luscious wonder and the wind rustles eerily through the branches, it couldn’t be helped that I would revel in every facet of these few spare months. It’s nestled between months of summer playtime and a winter that most don’t want to face. It’s also overpowered by the incessant creep of all things Christmas, obliterating the landscape of orange and yellow, taken over by October’s end and November’s beginning with glitter and cheer. Not one strand of tinsel will appear in my home until the food from Thanksgiving dinner is digested two days later.
In early September I see pumpkins begin to appear on porches along with the requisite hay bales and corn stalks. It’s as if some wire is switched in people’s heads and they are on automatic overdrive. I take my coffee and sit on my patio chairs, soaking up the remainder of summer while fall edges itself into my conscience. The blending of seasons is part of the season, the handing over of the torch and the almost lazy way I welcome fall. Fall-scented candles have been arranged strategically so with the flick of my wrist and quick light of a match I can smell vanilla and apples. I am slow to move each season, choosing to blend like a chameleon into it instead of jump blindly.
It’s already time to pitch the annuals that are now hanging limply after a frost and a light early snow. At the beginning of October, I start looking at pumpkins and possibly bring a few home to place on my steps, but not too early because they’ll be carved with jack-o’-lantern faces come the last week of the month. When I begin to feel the magic course through me, I’ll get out my Mexican calaveras and place them in and around an intentional vignette, made with a nod to my husband’s heritage.
But as of now, my pumpkins are beginning their slow rot into just the seeds.
There’s still time to do fallish things. There’s time to embrace chilling rides down pitch-black roads in our countryside, dipping down into velvet hollows and hilltops with legends and stories that bring a tingle to the fine hairs on your neck. I have never turned away from a thrilling tale, and my kids and their friends could tell you many spine-tingling stories George has told them over the years. The spirit of the season mustn’t be squashed in a hurried rush to the holidays. Tripping over tightly held days to get to the next thing always leaves you gasping for air, never fulfilled.
Today I will take my coffee cup, before I delve into the day, and I will let the crisp morning air wash over me. I’ll take inventory of my porch, commiserate over the luscious maroon geraniums that have run their course. The season has neared its end, and as I survey all it once was, I am happy.
Melissa Herrera is a published author and opinion columnist. She is a curator of vintage mugs and all things spooky, and her book, “TOÑO LIVES,” can be found at www.tinyurl.com/Tonolives. For inquiries, to purchase her book or anything else on your mind, email her at junkbabe68@gmail.com or find her in the thrift aisles.