It will soon be autumn again with all the beautiful colors that Western Pennsylvania has to offer.
Predictably, every autumn I do the same things. I collect colorful leaves, pressing them between sheets of wax paper flattened under Shakespeare and the world atlas. Acorns are gathered with the enthusiasm of a hoarding squirrel, displayed in a jumble. And since I first saw one during a Montana autumn, I seek the bright shine of a glowing harvest moon.
I also begin my love/hate relationship with the season.
The rising sun wears a different glow in September. Not as hot as August, the sun does something to the green clinging to the trees, deepening the hue. That warmth draws me outside even as the air gets cooler. Evenings, I huddle on the deck, wrapping myself in the heaviest afghan my mother crocheted. It’s brown, rust, orange, and green and looks like the leaves my siblings and I frolicked in as children.
My husband opens the door, “Are you coming in sometime? It’s dark.”
I wave at the fairy lights adorning the gazebo and point at the Kindle in my lap. “I’m good. I’ll be in later.” He shuts the door and I listen to the uproar thousands of crickets are causing.
We Change Like the Seasons
As a child, summer was my favorite time of year. No school, but plenty of kids to play with on our dead-end country road. Mom packed us lunches in small brown paper bags. We carried them into the woods, feasting when we took breaks from whatever was our current favorite game. We caught crayfish in the creek, climbed “grape vines” woven in the oaks, and laid out forts with rocks.
Summers were fluid, free from all but the most basic of chores.
The heat of June, July, August seeped into us from dawn into deep dusk. We were rarely coerced inside—TV was reruns and we were busy kids. Without air conditioning, nights were spent flipping our bed pillows seeking a cool side. A major extravagance for our frugal parents, somehow we always had a pool. We frolicked in it from May, when we turned blue as soon as we got in, until September. We would beg Dad not to close it up, praying zealously for one more day of August heat.
Autumn From the Pacific to the Rockies
Living in Southern California for three years, the barely shifting of seasons didn’t bother me. While the natives in my office bundled up when the thermometer dropped to 68, I added a cardigan. “Aren’t you freezing?” They would ask. I would laugh and say, “I’m from Pennsylvania, remember?”
From there I moved to the tiny town of Red Lodge, Montana. I learned that winter has different meanings to an easterner and a westerner. Autumn in Red Lodge is full of crisp, brisk air that holds onto summer sunshine. Aspens vary their shades of yellow as they prepare to drop leaves, blanketing the ground like Mother Nature litter.
The Beartooth Mountains—the vast backdrop to the town of Red Lodge—show white peaks as high-altitude snows drift upon them. Fireplaces burn logs of cottonwoods, lodgepole, and ponderosa pines. The smells provide a welcome perfume as you take a deep breath and acknowledge: Winter is coming.
When it’s 61 and sunny …
I Wax Poetic
Raking Aspen leaves,
Birch-white trunks glimmer in the bright sunshine.
Jackie and I outside,
chattering like Pennsylvania chipmunks
transplanted to the quiet of a Montana afternoon.
Raking these leaves isn’t as colorful as the combination as growing up:
Maple, Elm, Oak, so many more.
Here there are horses stomping in the field,
Airedales ripping and tearing around us,
remnants of sixteen inches of early snow tucked under a shadowy tree.
Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow,
We pile leaves in and move them deeper into the woods.
The sun is hot,
The air is still.
It is a perfect day.
I always want to tag a leaf and see if it blows back into the yard
where we eventually rake it again.
Or if it catches a wind current that sets it off on a journey
that sends it far, far away.
People are like sailing leaves …
sometimes we rebound back to the places we love,
sometimes we dash into the world, creating new places to call home.
Returning to Western Pennsylvania One Autumn
During my ten years in Montana, I came to love spring. After the siege of winter, even with continual sunshine, I wanted spring and budding trees and blooming mountain flowers.
Then I moved home. The rolling hills of Pittsburgh could be part of the Appalachia Mountains or not, depending on what you read. These hills climb and plunge, but they aren’t the majestic beasts of the Rockies. Here, I re-learned the impact humidity and cloudy days have on energy levels and moods. I glory in yard work, but know that I will melt as the day goes on—the heat rising. The anticipated joy? Frozen popsicles or chilled Pinot Grigio in an equally chilled glass. My reward for soggy clothes clinging to my sopping skin.
I still love spring and summer because I love being warm. But somewhere during these Pennsylvania years, I have come to anticipate the wonder of autumn.
While I know that winter will bring a dead look to the yard, the bird feeder will attract colorful fliers. Deadheaded flowers and trimmed bushes are bland, once colorful leaves piled atop plants turn brown. The deck fairy lights move indoors, wrapped around staircases, the baker’s rack and sometimes randomly draped across a wall. My engineer husband shakes his head and laughs. I remind him, “I asked you when I moved in if you would allow me to add color to your life. You foolishly said yes.” He nods and lets the lights hang.
Winter will follow, but for now there is a beauty to autumn that I relish. Mornings, I’m eager to step outside, take a brisk walk, see the world change the colors of our trees.
Maybe This Autumn…
I may be deluded, but I sense that life will slow down this fall…. My world will relax to a pace where I can finish projects, try different things, enjoy a new adventure. I sigh and bundle deeper into my afghan, content to sit in the quiet of the night.
Do you have a favorite time of year?
Has it been the same season throughout your life or has it changed over the years?
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I am absolutely adoring our fall this year in Montana! It has been warm (75 today) and colorful. I have come to appreciate that so much because many times it is not – snow comes quickly – this year it snowed the beginning of September and I thought we would not have color. But that disappeared and we have been blessed with a long, gorgeous fall! Love your poem!
The autumn photos coming from Montana are stunning and making me (second?) homesick for a place I love so much. The golden aspens! Wow. In a year full of sadness, this autumn and her glorious colors, are sure giving us something to smile about.
Then, I walked onto the deck at 6:00 a.m. and even in suburbia, the sky is so clear I could see a dipper and a zillion stars. Blessing!
I’m a Spring girl, loving the longer/warmer days. I look forward to the long summer days to rise early with the sun and remain active until sundown. But I must confess the beginning of autumn is a welcome relief with the cool weather. If only I could have cool weather and long days. And yes I have my countdown on to the day after the first day of winter…as the days get longer again!
Spring! I love spring the best, too! (Another reason we are friends!). But autumn is a blessing with new colors and that different tint to the sunshine and a slowing down of us…. Too darned bad winter follows!
I usually appreciate the changing of the seasons and I’m glad to live somewhere with four distinct seasons. But this year changes in the weather seem a bit ominous. With no real sign of the pandemic ending anytime soon there’s a premium on being able to do things outside. It’s what makes the whole situation tolerable for me and I’m not ready to batten down the hatches again.
I was thinking about that yesterday, Ken. I met a friend for a walk and for a picnic lunch (we are still avoiding restaurants) and thought: Oh man, where will we meet next month? November could be nice or too cold to be outside. “Tolerable” is the best word for Covid and all connected to it. Yech. Stay well.
I don’t know until earlier this week that you lived in SoCal – how amazing. And yes, it definitely is different when it comes to fall.
It is amazing that even though raking leaves isn’t fun, it somehow represents something comforting about fall. I do miss those colorful piles of leaves that you see on the east coast. I haven’t seen anything like that in years except for pictures. But you write in such a way where I feel like I’m back there, sitting on the back porch with you, feeling those cool autumn nights.
Gosh, I thought we talked about that a long time ago, Erica. I lived in Whittier.
Don’t tell my husband, but I love raking leaves. Love the action, the smell, the piles. Come on over and you can chat while I rake and then we’ll share a glass of wine. 🙂
I love fall, the smells, the colors the last few days of warmth. I too loved summer as a kid, spent days in the woods playing and swimming in the pool all day until we had to get out and eat. Then not being allowed back in for the mandatory hour waiting period we would sit in the middle of our dead end road popping tar bubbles to make sure we were good an hot and ready to swim some more! Some where though autumn took a hold of my heart I just don’t like the winter that comes after!
Tar bubbles. I would not have remembered that without your note. We aimed our bicycle tires directly over them–repeatedly. Pop. Pop. Pop. Oh Mom and that one hour waiting after we ate!
I loved this blog. I love everything about autumn except maybe all the bending required to cut back the hostas and day lillies! Bring on the sweatshirts!
I hear you. Getting warm sweaters out of storage … brisk walks in the cool air … hot tea on the deck in the afternoon sun. That stuff is all good. Thanks for reading & commenting, my friend!
Personally, I hate raking leaves. My preference would be that they stay on the trees in all their colorful glory until the first big snowstorm. Then let them fall, get buried in snow, and I’ll get them with the lawnmower in the spring.
My brother taught me to just mow them up as they fall…it mulches them and no need for blister-making raking!
That brother–always so yard efficient, isn’t he? Ha ha!
That’s funny–don’t you worry about the weight of snow on leaves breaking the branches?
Two days ago we had our first dose of snow in Montana….today is the first day of October! Snow comes long enough to ruin the remaining flowers, the garden…….it will get nice again and we will finish mowing for the few last times (usually to mulch the leaves that will now fall). Fall is too short here….I am already anxiously awaiting next summer!
I don’t miss the short autumns there, sister! I do miss the glorious colors of the aspens–you’ll have to send me extra pictures this year. And, oddly, it is 85 today in Pittsburgh. Not very October-like.
I love fall – or autumn as we Brits call it – too. Gorgeous colours and misty mornings. Long walks with the dog. Cups of tea by a rejuvenated fire. My love to autumn might also helped by the fact it is my birthday season!
Hello Monika! We use autumn and fall interchangeably. Hmmm, I don’t think we do that with any other seasons! Go figure those Americans. Birthday time! That’s wonderful! It is wonderful to take walks with our doggies and not melt from the heat. Sigh.
You know, for the first time I have switched from loving summer to loving fall. Living in a new place and having the kind of heat in the summer be that in which one can hardly get out to enjoy nature is totally new for me. I so look forward to the crisp air now – when I can even bundle up if need be, take a walk and not feel like I may pass out from the heat!
I think the whole idea of life “slowing down” during the dormant season has become much more appealing as I become a mother and face more and more responsibilities in life! I love the slower time now!
Could be the heat things here, too, Diana. PA has such soul-sapping humidity that some days it is unbearable to be outside. In the autumn, that decreases and is so lovely!
Love fall…
You brought back wonderful memories of our childhood. Yes, I loved summer when I was little…..play, play, read, play, explore and play some more!
In Montana I love summer….it is not near long enough for me! I love everything about it, I love the color GREEN! Love the flowers and the garden and the sun, mowing, wearing shorts.
I miss the PA autumns…the fruitloop colored trees, the crisp air and the blue skies. We just don’t have those glorious colors in Montana and fall can be very short-lived with the not-so-surprise of snow in September or October.
But I’ll take each and every season….live life to the full and enjoy each moment and the glory that God shows us!
Ah, yes, the beautiful greens of MT. It is my favorite color (I have a green purse, fleece and backpack all with me right now) and maybe I fell in love with it when I lived there.
Fruitloop-colored, indeed! Remember climbing the Nob and looking out across our property (and all the relatives’) and seeing the puffy clouds of color?
Marvelous.
Love the fall description and the image of you and your dear sister chattering and raking on a gorgeous day. Your thought of tagging a leaf to see if it comes back reminds me of a favorite childhood book “Attic of the Wind” and if you are interested I’d love to share it. It’s about what happens to things that blow away…………
Attic of the Wind…what a lovely title.
Seester, when you look outside this morning it is as if we never raked! They all came back!