By G. E. Shuman
For all
my usual complaining about spending the past sixty-two winters here in the
frozen north, at this time of year I usually have to play the hypocrite. Truthfully, and I don’t think I even realize this
myself until the summer begins to turn to fall, I love this time of year. I do complain at least a little, or maybe a
little more than a little, about the cold weather during winter in
Vermont. I do not like my snow blower,
although I am grateful for it. I also
don’t like paying for heat for our old home, and gripe about that just a bit,
too.
Still,
with all of that said, as I said, I do love fall here in the green mountain
state. That could be because, at this
time of year, the mountains are no longer so green, although I have nothing
against green leaves. Okay, so I can’t
explain it by the trees. I do love fall,
at least partially because I no longer have sweat pouring off my face and every
other body part whenever I do anything out of doors. (I don’t think anyone says ‘out of doors’
anymore, but you get what I mean.) It
really is great to ride through the hills of this northern state, with the
windows down and the AC off. My wife and
I recently took such a trip to Burlington, about thirty miles from our home,
via old Route 2. Check it on a map if you’re “from away.” That means you’re not
“from here.” It was a beautiful ride on a wonderfully winding wooded road. (I
know, too many w’s.) We took the trip in my favorite car, my 1970 vintage Volkswagen
Beetle, which doesn’t even HAVE air conditioning. (It doesn’t have much of a
heater, either, and therefore will be tucked in for a long winter’s nap long
before snow flies.)
I have
often thought of, and have occasionally written of this time of year as
‘sweatshirt and sneaker’ weather. Any of
you who have spent some brisk Saturday mornings at a child’s or grandchild’s soccer
games know just what I mean. Nothing
beats a big lawn chair and a travel mug of hot coffee at those games. It’s also a great time of year for bike riding
and maybe even a bundled-up fall picnic or two. The air is fresh, the sun is bright, and you
don’t need suntan lotion or mosquito repellant anymore.
And
then there is Halloween. Wow! I have
always loved Halloween! That holiday, if
Halloween is a holiday, has been special to me ever since I was one of the trick-or-treaters. Rustling leaves blown by a cool fall breeze,
creaking branches, spooky decorations, and big jack-o-lanterns under a bigger
harvest moon still excite this old guy.
Of course, when I was young, fake blood and gory rubber blades had
nothing to do with that spooky night.
Our frightening fun was found in stories of witches, goblins, ghosts,
and ghouls. (I know, too many g’s.) We didn’t go in for the blood and guts of
today’s costumes, but loved to dress up as werewolves, Count Dracula, or the
Frankenstein monster. As recently as
last weekend my wife had to drag me out of the Halloween aisles of a big box
store. That will probably
When my
kids were younger I loved to sit on the front porch swing on Halloween evening,
with the lights off, and surrounded only by the flickering light of their
jack-o-lanterns. I think the kids liked
doing that too, but not as much as old Dad did. This year I’m the one with no
tricks, but with a special treat. This
time I get to share Halloween with my brand new granddaughter, Nahla. At less than three months old she probably
won’t do much pumpkin carving this season, although I did buy her one that’s
just her size. Maybe she’ll at least sit
on the porch with me a few evenings, and let me tell her about Halloween. There’s
just nothing like the sooty-sweet aroma of a candle-lit carved pumpkin, on a
spooky, late October night. Nahla needs to know about that.
Yes,
indeed. I do love this wonderful sweatshirt and sneaker weather! I hope you do, too.
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