The trees are starting to turn salmon and crimson, just around the edges, as if Bob Ross has dabbed a little extra paint with a 3" brush. The intense heat has faded to a pleasant body temperature, so you don't get kicked in the face every time you open the door. Birds that have been solitary all summer have started to congregate, turning entire trees into noisy movement. The spiders are doing their best to infiltrate the church, and I keep finding tiny filaments of web in places I swear I just swept, I promise. The school buses grind past in both directions. Kids wait on the side of the road, backpacks on, kicking at the dirt, looking glum. The moms, meanwhile, gather on the street corners with their coffee mugs, their chat and laughter bouncing in the brightening air.
I love everything about fall, especially the food. The hickory nuts clicking into my bucket. That cidery smell of apples (I got ten pounds of Ginger Golds from Warwick Orchards to dehydrate). My sorghum is going through a little extra drying time in the dehydrator. The cherry tomatoes are spilling in fast. The kale's coming back for a second round in the garden. Jars of grape juice line the storage room shelves, shining like jewels. My only regret this year is that I couldn't find any decent crabapples to make jelly.
Autumn brings with it thoughts of books, blankets, apply betty, and hot chocolate. There's something about preparing for the winter that brings me sheer joy. I want to be Tasha Tudor when I grow up.
