AUTUMN NOSTALGIA

10. October 2009 by Marie Pinschmidt.

Soon, soaring snow geese will once again migrate south, as will our winter residents, the human snowbirds, as they are often referred to by those of us who are permanent residents. They will arrive one by one or ten by ten, accompanied by remnants of the north hanging onto their autos like a bad dream. This time of year, the migrants escape that of which I dream  - the sharp, cutting winds of autumn that bring a blush to the cheeks, tingling to the ears, and often a cold drip from the nose? Do they seek to escape winds that pile leaves against every solid vertical plane, seeking shelter in the spent chrysanthemums and corn stubble of open fields? Are they happy to leave behind birdbaths and patio tables covered by orange and rustic-colored dying leaves, tables that during summer held pitchers of lemonade and slices of watermelon? As they travel south over mountains and through small towns, are they happy to see the red torches of sumac and barren trees that gradually transform into blooming hibiscus and palm trees? Browned grasses turn to verdant green as they drive along, and the grayed skies magically turn to brilliant blue.

On arrival, hurrricane shutters are opened to the mild tropical air. Blue jays squawk a welcome while ibis and herons stroll along waterways as they have all summer. Sweaters and long pants are exchanged for shorts, bathing suits and sunshades. Patio doors are swung wide. Sunscreen is purchased for a day at the beach, a neighborhood pool, or a morning of golf or tennis.

For now, as in every Autumn, I yearn to lift mine eyes unto the hills and watch as the trees change from green to golden yellow, and red leaves become haloed with gold. I’d like to pick hickory nuts and walnuts and spread them out on a picnic table to be dried by the sun and biting autumn winds. I’d like to beathe in the sharp fragrance of chrysanthemums hugging the back porch and lining the driveway. I’d like to go into the woods and gather twining vines of bursting orange bittersweet to fill vases and twist into wreaths for the front door. I’d like to breathe in the odor of smoke from burning leaves as it merges with the fragrance of nutmeg and cinnamon from an iron kettle of bubbling apple butter. I’d like to huddle by a bonfire of leaves and dried branches while roasting marshmallows. I’d like to walk again on sidewalks covered with leaves and hear crackling and crunching sounds beneath my feet. I’d like to lie on cool ground and watch waltzing clouds through sky holes in the trees, and feel leaves curled with age dance and spin onto my face.

But, alas, I’m a full time Floridian. These moments of nostalgia are short-lived. When the splendor of Autumn is over, I’ll once again be thankful for clear skies and bright sunshine as I bask in the warmth and beauty of our tropical paradise.

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