things to FALL for

Happy October, dear readers!

I have always said fall was my favorite season, and while I am becoming disillusioned by the fact that fall is also pretty nasty allergy season, and I'm appreciating summer more for being nice and warm, and the romance of winter (for a few weeks, anyway), and the relief of spring, I can't deny that fall still holds something special for me. In the fall everything seems sharper: the coolness of the air, the edgy yellow of the sunlight, the leaves on the trees...

I remember a conversation with my friend Elaine in college, about making the most of changing seasons. I would be willing to swear that every time winter approaches, for the rest of my life, I will think of Elaine because of this one moment. And for the life of me I couldn't tell you which year it was; it could have been freshman year or senior year. It really is just timeless.

It probably started with me saying something about how I don't really like snow, and that I can't help thinking in November how tired I'll be of winter by the time February rolls around. I remember feeling as though I was dancing on the edge of feeling differently about winter, though. When Elaine put words to the feeling it sounded so profound, the way truth sounds when someone says it right as you are coming to the same realization, but before you have thought to put words to it.

I think at that moment we made an unofficial vow to ourselves, with each other as witnesses, to henceforth make the most of every season.

And since, then, I have. First year half our dorm rallied to go sledding down Thorson Hill, on caf trays or sleds or tubes or cardboard boxes or whatever we could find. When my air mattress popped, we hauled it out there and stacked a 7-person pyramid on top of it and squeezed a little more life out of it. For example.

And this year I enjoyed my summer like I was raised in the Arctic Circle, even though I didn't have a summer vacation for the first time. (Last summer didn't count, because Sunny V had an expiration date.) And even though the summer went by so fast I hardly had a chance to see it, I'm actually really excited for fall.

I've been dancing around whether it's here or not, but this morning I hit the Y for my Monday morning swim and discovered that the outdoor pool is closed for the season. I could see the steam rising over the lane lines through the complex gates, and then headed down to the newly enclosed bubble pool, which still smelled like musty plastic and was far too warm for my taste.

Speaking of pools, I also helped my neighbor hang her inflatable pool up to dry yesterday afternoon. "We had fun splashing around this summer," she said, "but I think it's time to put it away." She seems really nice and I'm excited to get friendly with the neighbors: the younger women and their nontraditional families on either side of us; the older Italian ladies still in their family homes, who put out orange traffic cones to block off their parking spaces, much to my dismay; the young dad a few doors down who I've only nodded to when one or both of us was on our way to work or to work out.

Aside from the bittersweet end of pool season, fall also means more hours spent in the yard raking leaves or picking up chestnuts. My mom has been leaving chestnuts by the road in buckets, hoping neighbors will take them off her hands. She has been learning about them this year, though: about the blight that took down most of the chestnut trees in the region decades ago, about chestnut soup and the price per pound and how people swarm to parks on weekends to pick up chestnuts from underneath the trees.

I also learned, after seeing the strange cauliflower-y green balls scattered along my most traveled roads, that osage oranges grow around here. Last summer, Ann and I spent at least a month scouring grocery stores for them to ward off the spiders that bit Ann in her bed while she slept.

On Saturday my family went apple picking. I don't remember the last time we did this, but I can tell you I wasn't driving yet, and most of my middle school youth group was still intact (so I couldn't have been older than 15). My mom had been dropping not-so-subtle hints that she wanted to go to the orchard, so finally we took her for her birthday, and left with almost 100 pounds of apples that will become applesauce and baked apples and caramel apples (I hope) and school lunches. Jason's favorite part was the apple cider donuts. Yana enjoyed the great, colorful, American apples-and-pumpkins tradition and took plenty of photographs, and I couldn't help but notice that the place was swarming with adorable small children wearing fall-themed outfits and face paint.

Speaking of pumpkins, I was psyched last year to discover that Punkin Chunkin is a real thing -- not just what my roommates and I did in college when we needed stress relief and a break from studying. In fact, it's an international thing. AND, the annual world championship is held in Delaware! I would love to go this year, but if I end up being able to go to a very important wedding that weekend, I will put it on my bucket list for my future in this highly underrated state.

Also speaking of pumpkins, this year I am jumping into the delicious world of pumpkin beer. Last year I jumped on the bandwagon too late to really get any, so I want to urge you all earlier in the season to GET SOME! GET SOME NOW!

Yes, like all beers you will have to try several different kinds to find out what you like. Sam Adams does a pretty classic one; so does Blue Moon. Around here Dogfish Head Punkin Ale is the coveted brew, for obvious reasons; and there's Pumking and the Flying Dog one which I have yet to try. But so far? I'm all for Long Trail Brewing Co.'s Imperial Pumpkin Ale. It's heavier, darker, and sweeter without being sickly sweet. Rich and spicy. Mmmmm. I want some now!

Oh, and not a pumpkin ale but one of the best beers of my life: Iron Hill's Abbey Dubbel. Also of the dark, rich, fruity-spicy family, and so, so delicious. I am starting to think that fall beers are also my favorite. So long, summer!

So, the weather is cooling off drastically. The figs and peaches are gone from our backyard, although I noticed the patio scattered with dried-out peach pits. They're actually very pretty, but I haven't come up with anything to use them for yet. Suggestions?

I ended up on the patio yesterday because, since the fruit is gone and it is colder out, the bees and flies have also gone their merry ways, and I needed some sunshine, and I had a book to read: Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins -- the second installment of the Hunger Games Trilogy. By now I have finished it, and put a hold on Mockingjay at my local library, and I have to say, I am not disappointed in the least. People have told me that the second and third books were disappointing after the original, but the book is fast-paced and daring and just the right amount of dark. It's well-written, too, with an intricate plot and brilliant setup. No shame: I definitely set it on the shelf with Harry Potter.

It's good to get reading again after four years of lit-heavy college and the refractory period during which I sometimes actually shuddered at the touch of a book. It's like being 10 again and spending my whole summer in hammocks and armchairs, oblivious to the real world happening around me. I'm glad not to have TV or internet or even a computer (although I might do more writing if I had one... theoretically) and I'm glad to have to find new things to do. Right now I'm blazing through easy, lively YA fiction, but for once I'm not opposed to more academic reading. I like reading articles and blurbs for more invested specimens (and I want to get my hands on JK Rowling's and Junot Diaz's new books!)

And I like listening to NPR. In fact, I'm addicted. I am like a werewolf hungry for knowledge. Or maybe what I like about NPR is that it's framed around stories, more developed than a news ticker or a 11:00 news sound bite. I'm hungry for stories. I learn about new books and music (like Ben Taylor, son of JT and Carly Simon), and about world politics, and the upcoming elections, and scientific discoveries, and even sports and the fact that this week is the 50th anniversary of James Bond hitting the big screen. It's rad.

This morning I was all over a story about the CD turning 30, maybe because I am one of the few people I know who still listens to CDs. In fact, I'm in the even smaller pool of people who still buys CDs. This is partly because I don't have a computer, but also because I am nostalgic and maybe a small amount of hipster.

The story was well-timed, 36 hours or so after I stocked up on discount CDs at Best Buy, and danced around the aisle with a guy looking for a Nas album. He doesn't trust digital music, because it's easy to lose. He likes having hard copies of things. So do I, after all the mp3s I've lost through various accidents.

As for me, I enjoyed making that random connection with a kindred spirit of sorts. I've done a lot of that lately: I met the digital mistruster, my next-door neighbor and her boyfriend, a lady at church who just retired from 18 years of being an executive chef. I asked her how she spends her time now and she said she volunteers, teaches kids how to cook, takes water aerobics classes at the Y. I want to end up like that. Never still. Having to carve out my free moments. Like my grandparents and adopted grandparents, who always say, "We'll slow down when we're old," and never seem to get there.

Life is far too full of things to fall for, too full to let them pass without a glance.