Autumn

Growing up along the coast of Florida, you wouldn't expect me to get a whole lot out of the fall. But some of my giddiest childhood memories are firmly planted in this season, after culling anything related to gift-giving occasions. I have very few memories of life before Florida, my toddler years, and of those, only two would have taken place unquestionably once the leaves began to change. The first Halloween I can recall centers mostly on my intense dislike of my costume - a homemade, probably hand-me-down, clown - and of wanting to stay out longer with the rest of the kids and having to climb the seemingly monumental stairs up to our backdoor once we got home. The other confirmed autumnal memory was also from Halloween, but this time we were moving from the frozen tundra mid-west down to Florida the next year. Here again, the memory has become more tenuous over the years, but I remember sitting in a booth at a diner near/at our motel that had decorations on the windows and the waitress was dressed up and very sweet to me. I remember more about the move itself, the night before we left, the drive down and packing up our hotel room than I do about the holiday or season. 

Settled along the Treasure Coast of Florida, I don't remember a whole lot of fall for the next maybe two years, with the exception of the distinctive smell of early 1980's plastic masks for costumes. And the completely useless eye holes. I suspect this bit of memory has been overwritten to store random song lyrics or television theme songs. Or the chemicals in the plastic rotted a bit of grey matter. Potayto, potahto. Lima bean! Maybe carrots? My brain itches...

Anyway, it is the next years, the solidly elementary years, that are at the core of my love affair with rusty orange, golden yellow, and burnt sienna. There were fall festivals. There were spooky cartoon specials. (Chucklewood Critters' Which Witch is Which? Witch's Night Out? The Worst Witch? Mr. Boogedy? Anyone? No? I'll just take my old vhs tapes and go home. Hmph.)  Arts & crafts at school. Girl Scout activities. Frightening books that I could not get enough of. (I knew my library better than I knew my own name.) Handing out candy to the little littles (as I like to call them) before I'd go out violently demanding candy trick-or-treating so I could see their adorableness before they were smoothly taken home before dark. After Halloween, the television specials continued, as did the arts and crafts, holiday books and activities. I remember describing in great detail in my fifth grade language arts journal all the preparations that went into our Thanksgiving feast. Pies! Pies for days! 

And let's not forget decorations. Everywhere. Pumpkins, skeletons, turkeys, scarecrows, cornucopias, witches, ghosts, pilgrims, dead leaf everything. Though its been broken and glued back together in recent years and has a few chips, I still have the ceramic pumpkin my mom painted what must be eons ago. I am downright offended at the mere passing suggestion of getting rid of it. When the local grocery chain offered pilgrim salt and pepper shakers several years ago that went along with their seasonal add campaign, well, you can be sure I bought a set. Possibly two. But most definitely at least one. Couldn't have gotten three. Most probably. 

Costumes and feasts aside, when it gets to be this time of year the memories that really pull me along are more personal and almost solitary. In a good way, I swear. Because even though I lived right on the coast of Florida, and even though trick-or-treating was held in malls due to mosquito problems for a few years (true story), and even though it'd be hot enough you could almost cook your turkey on the sidewalk, I could always feel the air change. I could taste a crispness to the wind and feel the scrape of ghostly leaves against my skin when autumn finally came. Every year, without fail, I could perceive (or maybe more realistically imagine) the change in the season. I just knew there'd be caramel apples in the grocery store, on display in large barrels filled with hay. We'd stock up on the wrapped pieces of caramel, to make our own caramel popcorn balls and scald the living daylights out of our hands with. 

To this day, I still get that ah-ha moment of feeling like fall is coming. The memories come to me regardless of the calendar, but I admit this year was pretty well timed. In years past there's been several weeks difference between actual fall and my excited inkling. My husband used to think it was funny when I'd make my declaration. I explained it once, and over the years, his amusement has changed to taking in the moment with me and agreeing. I had that moment today, with full sensory memories of riding in the station wagon with the windows down on our way to some fall activity or just the grocery store to gather stuff to make treats or a feast. 

So here's to the glory of binge watching every old holiday special you can find on YouTube. Here's to the happy chills brought on from the safety of a good spooky story. Here's to not losing the memories of the best of childhood in the hustle of the modern, adult age. 

Anybody else craving homemade caramel popcorn balls?