Fall Ramblings

We’re enjoying a run of perfect fall days here in our little corner of the Blue Ridge. The light at the farm in the morning and late afternoon is painfully beautiful. We’ve got some picturesque hay bales, too. I’ve got the blues though. Not sure what that’s about…Maybe the shortening days, the chill in the air. The end of farm stand peaches. The last of the local village fêtes has come and gone. And then there’s this cold that Hank and I seem to be passing back and forth.

Add a little nostalgia to the mix—there’s something about fall that brings me back my former life. I moved to Paris and New York in the fall and that’s when I miss them most. I’m sure most of you urbanites will agree that there’s nothing like fall in the big city, when everything comes back to life after the sleepy summer. Fall always meant good hair days, a new sweater, a new pair of boots. I’d love to be walking along the sidewalk among the colored leaves in my old neighborhood in Brooklyn with a hot cup of coffee in my hand and a swing in my step. I miss that feeling of self contained-ness.

In an attempt to shake it off, I’m taking a cue from Henry’s preschool class and focus on apples and pumpkins. I’m after the perfect apple (unlike my crazy mother who likes to go to a local orchard and pick up half-price “grounders” and bring me bags of mushy, bruised fruit). I’ve already had some pretty sublime ones, crisp and tart and am ready for more.

Today it was the pumpkin patch with Henry’s class. We found a couple good ones. I’ll leave the carving to papa. I’m not so proficient with the scalpel…