23 October 2010

The Scene from the Kitchen Window

After a spate of golden days with that lightness in the air that only comes in fall, our weekend has begun, cold and dreary. No matter: For the past three weeks, we have awakened to the sound of gunshots from the marshland to the west and fallen asleep to the honking of geese along the river to the north.

It is time to turn away from the glories of Indian Summer to the gray and gold days that make up November.

Since Labor Day, we have eaten our share of caramel apples, sharing them after the hearty dishes we prefer in the fall. There are pumpkins on the red bench near the side door, and a display of fall flowers and gourds in the garden. I look out at the horse barn and see a riot of color.

Every season brings its small moments of delight: Mine came on a quick trip to a resort, when the managers treated me to a sunset pontoon boat ride up and down a meandering river. The islands were reflected in clear water, looking as though they were suspended in liquid and air.

Then there were the simple, seasonal delights that have sustained me for more autumns than I care to reveal  online.

I have driven down country roads on sunny days, past fields of haystacks and farmyard pumpkin stands. I have left work to the chatter of starlings in the ancient oak and maple trees in the park behind my office. I have returned home at dusk, walking up my little hill and breathing in the aroma of woodsmoke from my neighbor's fire.

My home has been a silent witness to 115 autumns now, and if I close my eyes and I can imagine the sounds and aromas of all the years that have passed: The clip clop of horses' hooves, the tinny horns of Model Ts, the rattle of souped up jalopies. The wine-rich smell of dying leaves, the crisp nose-tickling feeling on fall mornings as the season wanes - all these are a satisfying part and parcel of this lavish season.

The sun is angled now, and it washes the old buildings in our town with a coppery light. I love this time of year and hope that my work load lightens up so I can spend some time in the kitchen.

12 comments:

Danièle said...

What a lovely tribute to how we stand on the shoulders of the perennial pleasures the seasons give us.

Mimi from French Kitchen said...

Thank you! I write one of these little tributes to fall every year. Each one is similar but each is different too. It helps me mark the seasons, but I am always grateful when it reaches someone else, too.

Farmgirl Cyn said...

I love this! Maybe perhaps because we share such similar weather, with you just being north a bit! I always say that the season we are currently moving into is my "favorite"....just cause it's been so dang long since we've experienced it! But I truly think Autumn IS my favorite. Sweater weather. Soup and homemade bread. Hunkering down for what is sure to come....the bitter winters of Michigan. I also hope you can spend more time in the kitchen, Mimi. Getting back to what just feels right to you....

Mimi from French Kitchen said...

Cyn, the only difference is we got our last CSA box two weeks ago! But, yes, our weather is so similar.

Penny said...

I am loving the angle of the sun also. Our porch is bathed in the most beautiful golden light in the late afternoon. It is like magic.

Mimi from French Kitchen said...

I love that time of day, Penny.

Jann said...

This time of year is absolutey breathtaking!Bring on the soups and all the delicious squash recipes!

Mimi from French Kitchen said...

Soup every day, Jann!

Pug1 said...

Hi Mimi, I just found your blog, luv it! I'll be back! CHEERS! Michele

Mimi from French Kitchen said...

Thanks, Michelle!

Christine said...

I wish for you a lightened work load so you can enjoy more of life's pleasures, Mimi. Especially cooking! :)

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