This week marked the official beginning of fall. I was greeted last Sunday by dried leaves and flower arrangements, a pumpkin and a groovy looking scarecrow on my front porch. My children love fall even more than I do, and that’s saying something.
Later that night, after we’d had our baths and were all decked out in our pajamas, we went for a moonlit hike through the fields and woods behind our house. We walked slowly and stood for long periods looking up at the night sky. We observed how lucky we are to live in a place that does not have enough artificial light to block our view, but wondered what it might look like in a place that had no artificial light at all.
We squealed with delight as we realized we were surrounded on all sides by hundreds of glowing specks in the grass. We dug through the tall grass and shined our lantern on them.
Dark black bugs that didn’t look very remarkable except that they lit up our hayfield like hundreds of little stars on the ground.
When we were tired and a little cold, we went back inside
and had popcorn and peppermint tea.
We read Caddie Woodlawn and fell asleep with the bedside lamp still burning.
It is fall.
All week we have planned for our favorite season– pumpkin patches and
corn mazes, Halloween costumes and Harper Lee’s birthday, soup and
homemade bread, and ghosts made out of tomato cages and sheets.
(*More on this in a later post.)
The colors are already changing in that corner of the world and the air is crisp.
On the way down, Isaac asked, “Wonder who did that?”
Harper Lee said, “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it was a boy.”
How do you celebrate the changing seasons?