Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Ode to Fall

Hands down, Fall is my favorite season.  Children head back to school, brand new backpacks and crayons in tow.  The heat begins to subside, giving way to cool evenings – perfect for walking.  The trees slowly begin to turn, and suddenly, everything is transformed into a world of golden yellows, fiery reds, and warm oranges.  Pumpkins appear outside grocery stores and are carted away to people’s front porches.  It is the time of year when the world is expected to smell of cinnamon and pumpkin pie.

Granted, while Fall in Iowa is accompanied by leaves crunching underfoot, Fall in Washington is not quite the same.  In Washington, it rains, and the leaves are often transformed into a soggy mess.  But despite the damp weather, some of my favorite Falls took place there.
           
My grandparents had two huge maple trees in their front yard, and every Fall, thousands of leaves would fall from their sturdy limbs.  The yard would slowly fill.  Higher and higher and higher.  My sisters and I would appear with rakes that were twice our size, and we would rake up this wonderland of leaves.  We gathered a pile beneath one of the maples, and carefully, we climbed a wobbly ladder propped up behind the tree.  Once in the tree, we would stand looming over the pile.  From our youthful perspective, the pile of leaves appeared to be ten stories below us, and we had to muster every inch of our courage we had to jump.
           
One,
                       
Two,
                                   
Three!
           
We flew through the air and landed with a crunch into the leaves.  We rolled out of the pile laughing, begging to do it again.  And again and again and again.  We soon had leaves in our hair, in our clothes, and even in our underpants.  But we jumped out of that tree all afternoon, laughing with delight after ever courageous leap.
           
I will never forget those delightful Fall afternoons spent jumping.  However, the maple trees are now old, some of their branches have been cut down, and our jumping spot has long since disappeared.  All that exists now are the memories.  Memories conjured up every time I walk outside and hear Fall beneath my feet.
           
Crunch.  Crunch.
           
Crunch.

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