I have always loved Autumn. It’s my favorite time of year.
Living down south, the fall of the year is such a relief from the heat. I love the cooler temperatures and enjoy being able to go outside again. In the summer, I spend most of my time indoors next to the air conditioner.
But when fall approaches, I still feel the same joy I did as a kid. I don’t think I am the only one who feels that way if the packed highways through the mountains are any indication.
I remember raking up the huge leaves in front of our house in Pennsylvania until we had a four- or five-foot-tall pile. Then we would run and jump into the pile, slinging leaves everywhere and giggling like crazy. We would rake them up and do it all over again and again.
If there is one thing I miss about living up north, it’s the leaves. Everything down here pretty much stays green all year long. As my son laments, “It’s like never having any seasons!”
That’s one of the main reasons why I planted a Bradford Pear tree, now on the Invasive Species naughty list, in my front yard…it’s one of the few trees which has leaves that change color in the fall.
I distinctly remember walking to school in the fall of the year in New York. I was in kindergarten and would walk about eight to ten houses down the street to a crossing guard, then cross a busy highway to my school. Back then, we walked in the rain, shine, sleet, or snow.
One time, I remember walking home from school and stopping along the way to pick up colored leaves. I took my time, picking and choosing the very best leaves I could find. They had to be perfect…no brown spots, no dried edges, and nothing to mar their beauty.
It had rained that day and the fallen leaves were so beautiful. Some were the size of a man’s hand, while others were tiny and could fit in my small palm. The rain gave them an even more lovely luster, and they truly looked like jewels lying on the sidewalk.
I continued to pick up the very best ones I could find until I had a small bouquet. Then I went home to show my mother.
My mother was an artist and appreciated beauty just like I did. I knew she would find the leaves just as pretty.
When I ran in to show her my “treasure”, she smiled and made a big fuss over me finding the very best leaves of all.
But that wasn’t all.
She went and got out the ironing board and iron. Then she opened a drawer and pulled out the waxed paper. As I watched my creative mother at work, she next took some of my crayons and shaved them onto a piece of the waxed paper, leaving space for my leaves.
Then, oh so carefully, she arranged my leaves on the waxed paper with the crayon shavings in the spaces in between. She placed another sheet of waxed paper on top of the leaves and crayon and then proceeded to iron it.
Within seconds, the crayon melted, and the waxed paper fused together to press my beautiful leaves. The result was a magnificent sun catcher. Momma cut the ragged edges from the waxed paper, and we taped it to the picture window in front of the house where the sun shone through.
It was glorious…it was spectacular…and we had made it. My leaves were memorialized for weeks. But then snow came, and my childish joy turned from leaves to snow.
I am 66 years old now, and I have a few pieces of nice jewelry, a house, a car, and a few dollars in the bank. But I would give just about anything for that homemade sun catcher with the jewel-toned leaves hanging in my window.
God’s fall colors beat anything I have ever seen.
