October 30, 2023
Embracing Autumn
By Alana Callender
The term autumn can be traced back to the ancient Etruscan word autu, which means passing of the year. It is my favorite time of year.
In my childhood, shutting up the cabin for the season was a little sad, but what promise the new school year always had. There was the ritualistic trip to the city for new school clothes and then the all-important regathering of friends. This might be the year that so-and-so noticed me or that I wrote the perfect paper – it never was, but the potential was there.
Now I enjoy the transition from the summer to the winter side of my closet. Clothes that have rested in the dark appear new. Friends ask, “Where did you get that?” The answer is almost always, “In my closet,” for I have enough retired work clothes to last a decade. They may be out of fashion, but so am I.
There is a comfort to fall clothes. Some of my sweaters feel like hugs when I put them on, unlike the flimsy summer clothes whose only purpose is to trap in yet more heat. Scarves, gloves, boots, sweatpants – bring them on.
I love that it’s still dark later, so I can justify staying in bed a little longer.
Thanksgiving has become the gathering time for my extended family. I’ve always encouraged my adult children to celebrate Christmas time at their respective homes with their nuclear families, instead of giving their children fond memories of packing up cars and driving not over the river and through the wood, but across I-80 and through holiday traffic to grandmother’s house.
I have the ritual holiday menu saved on the computer, with notations about what day/time/temperature each dish is to be started and cooked at. At the end of each year’s feast, leftovers are evaluated to determine if a particular dish is to be repeated the following year or replaced. Banana pudding has eased out the orange/cranberry gelatin salad. The olive and pickle relish tray has been pushed out by charcuterie.
For years, I have made oyster dressing but no one knows it. That gets eaten in the kitchen by the cook. No sense sharing oysters.
Before I moved into Ridgecrest in December 2019, the last hurrah in my house was Thanksgiving, attended by 40-plus guests, including my daughter’s brand-new husband, stepchildren, and grandchildren. This year, the feast will start Thursday in Moline at my son’s and finish on Friday in Chicago at my daughter’s. If you drop by my place on Saturday, you might get some oyster dressing.
