Tag: autumn

The Changing Seasons

Brenda Stratton

The air is cooler now, and many of the leaves have begun to fall here in the Midwest.

Autumn is truly underway.

The garden is finished. All of the produce is safely tucked away, and my garden beds are quiet.

Stacked firewood in warm autumn light with trees softly blurred in the background.


I have said before that autumn is my favorite time of year. It holds so many memories.

When I was a young girl, I lived just a few blocks from my best friend. I was 14, and Lisa was 16.

In the evenings, after homework was done and the supper dishes were dried, we used to go for long walks circling our quiet little village until it was time to go home. 

We had to be home by 10 p.m. whether it was a school night or not, so I always made sure to wear my watch.

Our village was small, about seven blocks long and three blocks wide. We usually walked the perimeter, making only left turns. I have NO idea why. 

I suppose it might seem odd, two girls walking alone at night, but our little village was somewhat isolated. There was a streetlight on every corner, and a mom and dad we knew on every block. We felt very safe. 

It was also a different time, the mid-1960s.

We always had so much to talk about. I doubt very much if there was ever a lapse in the conversation. 

We often talked about our horses and going riding together. Her horse was Apache, and mine was Billy. 

We talked about mutual friends, boys, school, and so much more. Because our community was small, we mostly hung out with the same kids. 

I remember vividly the sound of Thornton’s corn dryer. Mr. Thornton and his family farmed on the edge of our village, and every fall, we could hear his corn dryer all over town. 

We didn’t mind, though. It was just part of October and another sign that fall was here, along with cool weather, wood smoke from various chimneys, the rustling leaves underfoot, and the promise of the holidays soon to come.

At the time, we weren’t thinking beyond our walks together and the things that were happening in our lives. We were just two best friends enjoying time together. 

Meanwhile, our lives were quietly changing in ways we couldn’t see. 

Changing seasons, indeed. 

It’s Fall, Ya’ll!

Brenda Stratton

Actually, most of us here in the Midwest really don’t talk like that, but I couldn’t resist. We’re much more likely to say “It’s fall, you guys,” but it just doesn’t have the same ring.

Still, every time I pull out my “It’s Fall, Y’all!” T-shirt, I can’t help but smile. It is my favorite time of year.

While it’s not officially fall yet, the kids are back in school and there’s a different feel in the air.

Summer is wrapping up, and my garden is slowing down. I will soon can, freeze, and dehydrate the last of the vegetable crop. 

There will be zucchini for zucchini bread, tomatoes for soups, stews, and pasta dishes, cucumbers for pickle relish, and a variety of herbs tucked away for the months ahead.

And it’s nearly time to trim my roses back so they can rest until spring. 

The trees will soon turn color, painting the landscape in brilliant hues of yellow, red, orange, and russet.

And there will soon be traces of woodsmoke as people light their fireplaces against the first chill of the season. 

Although the home I live in now doesn’t have a fireplace, I fondly remember the one we had in my childhood home, where Carl and I continued to live until 2002. Now, I’ll enjoy the memories and perhaps catch the scent of someone else’s fire on a cool autumn evening.

It won’t be long until the earth itself breathes a sigh of relief and settles from the busy energy of summer into the slower pace of fall, as it prepares for winter’s slumber. 

For me, fall has always been a season of quiet gratitude. It is a time to reflect on the year so far and look forward to the months ahead. I hope to spend them writing, enjoying life, and sharing the holidays with the people I love. 

For now, though, I’ll simply pull on my favorite T-shirt, smile at the changing season, and enjoy every colorful day that autumn brings.

Autumn Leaves and Training Wheels

Brenda Stratton

Leaves crunched under my feet. The tall oak trees surrounding our school were alive with color as the blue sky and late afternoon sun filtered through them. The crisp autumn air held the faint scent of burning leaves somewhere in the neighborhood.

I was six years old, and the sheer beauty of the day felt like it was wrapped around me.

We had moved into town a few months earlier. Our house and the school were only a block apart, both along the highway that ran through town.

My friend, Susie, and I had agreed to meet back at school that day. She had received a new bike with training wheels for her birthday, and she told me she would teach me to ride it. But first, we had to go home and ask our mothers if it was okay.

Mom gave me permission, but reminded me to stop, look, and listen before crossing the street—and not to cross the highway under any circumstances.

Susie met me at the school a short time later, and that’s how I learned to ride a bike.

Susie rode it first, showing me what to do.

Soon it was my turn.

At first, I just sat on the bike. Then I slowly started pedaling. It wasn’t quite as easy as it had looked when Susie rode it. The handlebars wobbled, and I felt a flicker of frustration.

But once the wheels began to move and I found the rhythm of it, the wobble settled. By the time we reached the end of the block, I was more proud than frustrated.

Susie kept pace alongside me to the other end of the block. I turned the bike around, and she rode it back while I kept pace with her.

We continued in this way for a while, until the sun got lower in the sky and we knew it was time to go home.

By then, I was pretty sure I wanted a little bike with training wheels of my own.

I crossed the street toward home, the sound of leaves still crunching under my shoes, carrying the whole golden afternoon with me.