It’s autumn. Let’s wear socks.
Let’s eat chili and pasta and chicken pot pie. We’ll make pumpkin bread and apple crisp and put cinnamon in everything.
Let’s walk. We’ll go down by the river, where the crunchy cottonwood leaves make a satisfying sound. We’ll walk through the woods, where the maples and the sassafras flaunt leaves of gold and orange, purple and red. We’ll walk through the neighborhood. There’s a katsura tree on the corner, and it smells like cotton candy.
Let’s gather pawpaws from the pawpaw patch. I want to taste their creamy custard—banana-like and smooth, but with a hint of wildness.
Let’s say goodbye to the monarchs as they sail through the garden one last time. We’ll say hello to praying mantises, as big as Gila monsters, pregnant and plump. We’ll consult woolly bears on the severity of the upcoming winter and debate their prognostications.
Let’s knock down persimmons from their branches. They’ll fall with a soft plunk on the grass, and we’ll gorge on their jelly, sweet as brown sugar.
Let’s watch some football.
Let’s put flannel sheets on the bed, turn our clocks back, and sleep in late. We’ll cuddle our dogs, our cats, our humans. We’ll fall asleep to the patter of rain and leaves hitting the window and wake up to fog and dewy spiderwebs. By mid-morning, the fog will burn off, and we’ll gaze up at golden ginkgo leaves against the blue, blue sky. We’ll place bets on when they’ll fall.
Let’s plant trees and shrubs and perennials and lots and lots of bulbs. While we work, mockingbirds will bark out orders, squirrels will scold us, and starlings will huddle in the trees, chattering loudly.
Let’s worship in the tupelo cathedral, where the branches arc high overhead, and the red leaves sparkle like stained glass.
Let’s forage for fungi: puffballs and oyster mushrooms, chicken of the woods. We’ll admire the dangerous ones from a distance: witch’s butter, poison pie, dead man’s fingers, tippler’s bane.
Let’s carve pumpkins and stockpile candy. We’ll hand it out to tiny monsters who knock on our door.
Let’s knit and crochet.
Let’s roast marshmallows over a fire.
Let’s inhale the sweet scent of senescence. I want to take in the fragrance of decay, the smell of wet leaves and earth, of grass clippings and chaff en route to becoming humus. I want to feel the wind whip my cheeks. I want to delight in the fall colors, clear and crisp and bright. I want to eat an entire pumpkin pie, and I want to wear socks.
It’s autumn. Let’s wear socks.
I love this, Amy. You are a very sensory person, as am I. Love Autumn! Fun post!!
Kristina
Thank you. I tried to include all the senses, not just the pretty colors!
Yes! Still plenty of color here in NJ….I’m going out with my camera right now!
Nancy
Yay! Enjoy.
And let’s delight in our fabulous talented friends. What a beautiful post, Ms. A. xoxo
Thank you my dear Tricia. Glad you enjoyed it!
Beautiful.
Thank you!
You almost got me, but now I’m off to find my flip-flops.
(excellent writing!)
Heh heh, I’ll have to write another one for you when summer comes around again.
Yes! I’ll be right over to experience autumn with you. I adore autumn. You captured it well. Beautiful writing.
Aah – you almost made me want to switch out my morning coffee for some apple cider. No, seriously – I’m with you. I love fall! Your post made me want to head back outside and crunch around in my own fallen leaves. Autumn is such a wonderful, yet melancholy time, and you captured it beautifully.
You almost made me love autumn for a minute. Almost. Nice writing, Amy!
Why does this remind me of Robert Frost? I was reading him recently (“I was once a swinger of birches…”). Your writing here is of the same mood. ?
Here’s one from me to you: “Let’s bring autumn leaves in the house and scattter them on the floor. We’ll sweep them back up again in a couple days, but for a little while our house will smell like the earth.”
Wonderfully cheerful piece of writing. Thank you!