Welcome to Fall

In just one hour, it will be fall equinox: one of two times a year that the day and night are of equal length, the worlds of light and darkness momentarily balanced before turning full-force to the shorter days of autumn. Each year I find myself awaiting this transition with eagerness, my excitement at the coming of the fall great enough to prompt adoption of some pagan ritual, my Celtic blood beating a little faster in anticipation of this season of harvest.

Fall’s arrival offers a much needed reprieve from the over-indulgent, scorching days of summer. The preceding season’s excesses necessitate the on-set of a more measured season. By September, I will happily bid farewell to fuchsia and aqua blue, to bare legs and over-exposed, bikini-clad bodies. I am ready for my more muted, earthy brand of life. It is time for russet days, amber-hued skies, and deep pumpkin-colored evenings that almost too soon turn to dark, retreating nights.

How I adore layers, sweaters, fleece, and boots. I long to wrap myself in the familiar comfort of something warm and soft, tantalize my senses with the aroma of apple, cinnamon, pumpkin or squash. I have had my fill of the tropics, the exotic. I prefer heaping portions of gooey macaroni and cheese with garden-ripe tomatoes or pots of soup simmering full of root vegetables, the harvest’s offering of bounteous simplicity, complemented by a chunk of cornbread.

Like the equinox itself, autumn is perfectly balanced. It beacons both inward and outward, both indoors and out. Even as I fall into cocooning behaviors, enveloping myself in the comforts of the season, staying in the warmth of my home, I am drawn out.

I must experience the change in the air and rejoice as the first hints of cold weather tickle my body with their long awaited refreshment. I breathe deeply from the drier, smoky air of autumn days. My eyes and ears feast on the texture, color, and crackle of dried, falling leaves. I wait as long as possible to pile them up, surrendering to the end of the season only at the last possible moment.

Autumn entreats with its own unique activities. It is time for football, a sport necessitating venturing out into fall’s days and evenings: the warm, the cold, and the perfectly proportioned. Basking in a game which symbolizes the season because it has a season. Football will not drag you along all year; you cannot put off its enjoyment for better weather or more convenient times. No, like autumn itself, it is short lived, few enough games that they can actually be tracked and remembered, and then, it too will pass away, only to be anticipated when the season arrives again.

The harvest also requires time outdoors. Fruit must be picked, vegetables gathered. None will keep until later; all must be enjoyed or stored at the present. Life laid into order, the unessential put to rest for a season. It is a season for labor, but labor which in itself is a celebration of plenty.

The exhaustion of vacationing, the free-reeling abandon of recreating and nights full of activity make the return to routine all the sweeter and more soothing.

Autumn means back-to-school, back-to-work, back-to-normalcy. The rigidity of early mornings and reliable sleep patterns returns. Autumn is measured. It is studious. It requires planning and anticipation. Clothes and school supplies must be purchased, lunches must be packed, the next day’s and week’s activities scheduled with greater care. It invites me back, bidding farewell to that which won’t -- which cannot -- last and surrendering to the familiar realities of living.

Autumn, for me, welcomes traditions and festivities which, like the change in colors, begin to unfold almost on their own. An anniversary, Halloween, birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, more birthdays, and a New Year. Each celebration building on the previous, propelling me forward, deeper into the season, until it has passed too quickly again, and I find myself in the stark, emptier space of winter.

Constant perfection would become common-place, lose its novelty and enticement. And so, I must each year stand ready, in great anticipation of fully experiencing all the wonder before I must once again rake up the leaves, discard the pumpkins, and note that the world has made another quarter of a turn and the perfect equinox of autumn has passed.


Note: In celebration of the official beginning of fall, watch my Emily’s Kitchen Blog for soups and other great seasonal recipes.