Ghosts of Halloween Past.

Leopard, 198x.

Mary Poppins, 2007.

Madam Librarian, 2009.

Mime, 2009.

Spend a lazy Sunday

In my arms.

(I won't take, anything away.)

Also, when you live in Southern California, you can have evening picnics any day in October. And because your husband is with you (when he is spending lots of days and nights and weeks in Utah this autumn), you have them as often as you can. Backyard picnics. Schoolyard picnics. Etc., picnics. They are a delight.

Update (on an update).

Even in the midst of these hard weeks and days there have been sweet moments, too. One was seeing some of my old Provo and Provo family, both of whom I love. I also feel closer to Spencer's family, which I'm sure he loves.

Zeke and Bing, pre-work.

Nana and Eden, post E getting a tad bit hurt.

My horse whisperer.

Myself.

Pretty. Grumpy.

Just pretty.

The one I love.

And again. (On the very day of loss.)

This field love day-of-days, the Autumnal Equinox was brought up, and someone in my family asked me how I used to celebrate it, when I used to celebrate it a lot. I explained our old rituals of jumping over flames, chanting/dancing, the one-at-a-time circle sharing of our favorite thing about the season, and/or a quote, poem, song, or drawing to go along with it. I also explained some of the more specialized rituals involving eating part of a nut and letting the other one go in the water, representing what we want to keep about our lives and what we want to change, or seeds planted with tiny letters written on them, of what we want to grow (which was actually more Spring), or folded paper boats with our secret wishes to be released into the same water (which was actually more Summer). After my telling, my family humored me in sharing their favorite part of fall. I was a tad bit surprised that they would be willing to do that for me, but they were, and it was quite touching--particularly on that holy, sad day. My favorite thing(s): family dinners with baked apple desserts, strolls through fields, feeding horses in those nearby fields, crisp, cool air, dreaming about more apple things (including fresh cider pressed from fresh fruit), and squash--all kinds of squash. (Plus reds and oranges and yellows if I lived somewhere where leaves could be those colors. And a special emphasis on temperatures below 100, wishing I lived somewhere where I could feel those temperatures.)

What are are a few of your favorite fall things?

Things that are fall.

Boston.
Apples.
Orchards.
Back to school.
Pumpkin pie.
Squash.
Red leaves.
Orange leaves.
Yellow leaves.

Crunch of acorns under foot.

Eating soup again.
Drinking tea again.
Crisp air.
Jack-o-lanterns.

Halloween.

Trick-or-treating.

Caramel apples.
Tallest Man On Earth.

Shorter days.
Longer nights.
Thanksgiving/Friendsgiving.
Turkey.Tofurky.
This picture (drawn by Meggie in Sac. Meeting when we were 19ish):

Our Autumnal Equinox.

Spring we jumped over flames while miss Klemm played a pan flute. Summer we danced along the esplanade with abandon, chanting our gratitude and longing for summer's sun and its silent promise of a return to warmth. Fall was more somber. Perhaps rightly so. Perhaps different seasons require different ceremonies. And so we found ourselves on summer's dock, sitting in a circle, enclosing a single pumpkin candle. Each person expressed gratitude for one thing: Katie for water cycles, Austin for the great poets, Julia for circles and their inclusiveness, Jared for his ears and the joy of sound, me for kindness and sincerity, others for still more. Next we shared poems, or scriptures, or drawings signifying what autumn means to us. There was a lot of talk about harvests and preparing for winter, but also about returning to the center of ourselves, and handling this transition with solace. Elizabeth made an interesting point that while winter and summer are steady--you look out the window and things look the same from day to day--fall and spring are somewhat transitory. And it is true. We stood at the water's edge with a pistachio in hand. Katie asked us to reflect on our last year, and those aspects we wished to preserve and internalize, as well as those aspects we wished to discard, before we placed the meat portion in our mouth and cast the shell aside. The symbolism was simple, but meaningful. There was still chanting, and even jumping over the solitary flame (just for good measure), but it was quieter, less complex. The chanting grew softer instead of louder, and our leap was not backed by flute.

I am still a little afraid of winter.

Picking apples, making pies.

Yesterday day was fall time bliss in all its forms: gold leaves, orange leaves, red leaves, taking the scenic route, Northborough, Cambridge friends, apple orchards, apple cider, apple donuts, apple pie, apple everything, as well as hay rides, smiling children (including baby Søren), pumpkin patches, and freshly made kettle corn. Delicious. To wrap up this perfection, yesterday night was the RS broad cast and a night bike ride to and from Belmont with Katie, which inspired me to say, "Assuming we don't die, this will have been a really good idea," and inspired Katie to answer that she likes any sentence that begins that way. Thank you, New England for being so lovely.