Here’s a picture from this windy but fine Autumn morning.
Vince Guaraldi is a genius. “The Great Pumpkin Waltz” is almost too good of a song to be on the soundtrack for a cartoon. Lucky that this cartoon is pretty legend, too.
Okay, if I have to pick my favorite horror movie – not the best horror movie, just my favorite; I gotta go with Friday the 13th.
There is a serious Autumn chill in the air today, and it’s awesome. This was the first day that I could put on a button-down shirt, and a sweater, and a coat. Leaves are changing color in the City, and it’s getting darker earlier. My wife loves this time of year because we can leave the bedroom window cracked, making it all chilly in there, and sleep under all the comforters. (But I hate Pumpkin spice, so don’t get me started on that shit.) For a guy who loves Fall, this was like Heaven.
As a kid growing up in Texas, Autumn didn’t start until November. And even then we had a couple of Thanksgivings were we had to run the air conditioner – not that it stopped my father from building a fire in the fireplace. Usually, by Halloween, it started to noticeably cool down at night, so you’d have to put on a sweater ort a coat. Maybe the leaves would just start changing color. I do remember several Halloweens where we were sweating while Trick or Treating. Depending on what your costume was, this could make the evening a very sweaty affair.
Sadly, Fall in Texas was not a long season. As soon as it started, a month later it was December, and full on Texas winter. All the leaves had fallen, and it was a chilling 50 degrees out. Basically, you had one month to get all you Autumnal fun in.
Apple picking is hokey, corny, and a sad excuse for city people to play farmer. We drive way out to the country to go to a “farm” and then pay to pick apples, which half of them will rot in our homes as we try to figure out what to do with 10 lbs. of apples.
I have a fraught relationship with apple picking, but after nine years of it, I have come to love this part of our Fall tradition.
The first time I went a’pickin’ was when the kid was a baby, and the “farm” was this almost amusement-park-of-a-place why out in the sticks of New Jersey. It took like thirty minutes to get into the place, the parking was so bad. The line for tickets was long, and then when you got in the joint, all the trees had been picked over. (There were pony rides!) And leaving the place took an hour. It was like leaving a rock concert, but with way more produce. I felt silly being there, like I was being conned.
The next time I went was when my parents came to visit New York, and were staying upstate, as they were traveling in a motorhome. My wonderful wife found an orchard not too far from where my folks were staying. That was a way more enjoyable experience. It wasn’t crowded, lots of apples, a large orchard to wander around, and most importantly, the kid had a good time. With the exception of the Covid Years, we have gone back to the apple farm year after year.
And as each year goes by, I start looking forward to it, more and more. It has become our tradition, and an activity that we can yardstick our year, and also gage how much the kid has grown and changed. It’s also the gateway into Autumn for us, as the drive takes us out of the City and into the woods of small town upstate. The changing leaves, and Halloween decorations sprinkled about every corner. Maybe it wasn’t as cool as it was last year, and the leaves were more yellow than any other color… but Fall had arrived for our family.