RURAL REFLECTIONS: A new season

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

You might think this column is about cereal, but it is much more than that. It is about the anticipation of fall, my favorite time of the year. My guess it is the same for many of you. So I want to return to the farm of my youth when I tromped my way through the leaves that Dad work so hard to rake. The old mulberry tree did its best to keep my father busy and his youngest entertained.

Perhaps this time of the year is a time for memories. I think that, more than any other season, this one calls for us to settle in and spend a bit more time changing from thoughts of sand and sea to those of snuggling into our sweaters and walks in nature. As on the farm, it is a time of transition.

Fall for the Loxley family meant that a season of rest was upon us. The crops were harvested. All of the farm equipment was given their rest after Dad tucked them away already prepared for spring planting. The sheep were wearing a warmer wool coat and the horse began to look a little shaggy.

It was a season in which we could all snuggle in and rest.

No longer on the farm, I shared the traditions of the past with my own. For my children and me, it was a time of puzzles, hot chocolate, sweaters and crisp, cool mornings. Each morning, before they were off to school, we sat at the piano and sang. We played games and enjoyed the seasonal change with more time inside the house together making their memories.

Each fall, the house back the lane on Neff Road would embrace the bustle of Mom storing away food for the winter, making sure we had hot dogs and potato chips to feed however many people might show up for an evening in the basement by the fireplace. A favorite season full of the past.

I miss the days when we knew that Dad would spend more time in the house with neighbors and cousins coming to visit more often, staying a bit longer. I miss Aunt Welma’s butterscotch pudding and cousin Betty’s baked beans. Fall seems to bring them back to visit me every year, even though they are only in my heart.

The leaves fell to the ground so the child could walk upon them. That child could once more step back in time. A time when the old mulberry tree shed its summer robe, blanketing the ground beneath with glorious colors. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Take time to enjoy the new season.