It seems like so much happens on the weekends it’s all I can do to write about those two days all week just to catch up. Not to say our weeks don’t have days worthy of stockpiling into my blogs memory, but it feels like more of the days with pictures and patience for recounting are tacked onto the week’s end. So excuse me while I relay more of last weekends events.
Around here, fall is real. In Georgia, I had to search for it. I found it mind you, but some days it was a reach. Leaves still drop, days turn a bit cooler, the crunch is in the forest. But this set of shortening days is what I remember Fall feeling like. The type of fall where every leaf you pick up is more colorful than the next. The kind where each time I set foot in the forest I find more mushrooms and colors and the rainbow of decomposing matter is thick on the ground, enough to rake an enormous pile under every tree. Goldenrod screams out the last stripes of color before the world turns black and white for a while. Chill mornings and nights give you a hint of nerves and excitement all at once for the impending stretch of weather. (One which I hope I remember how to bare)
And a pumpkin harvest is truly one of the last harvests of the season. And it is always celebrated in style.
I wish you could bottle of the magic of childhood. I remembered so vividly the importance of picking out just the right pumpkin as a child. They had real true feelings in my mind. The first one I glanced at was always the one I absolutely had to pick. No matter if it had the perfect stem or was lopped off at the base of the pumpkin. It spoke to me, and leaving it would inevitably mean disappointing it. Something no innocent pumpkin deserved. Each little orange globe had its own personality. They were more than pumpkins.
Miles intentions on carving were based on the Tasha Tudor classic Pumpkin Moonshine. He intended on making a regular pumpkin moonshine, a sunshine pumpkin moonshine, a little bit scary hallway pumpkin moonshine and a very scary doorway pumpkin moonshine. Not sure how we will pull off the last two (I am still not entirely sure what he means)… but he picked out four with a mission in mind, so it will be.
This was a fall tradition I adored as a child. I am so glad to have been back where the pumpkins reign again.
Whats your favorite fall tradition?
2 thoughts on “the fall I remember”
Apple picking is a favorite, and trick-or-treating in our quaint little VT village has become one too :o) Glad to see you guys are enjoying the fall!
I love this line: ” Goldenrod screams out the last stripes of color before the world turns black and white for a while.”