Each year one of my more pessimistic friends says, “After the Fourth of July, it’s all downhill as far as summer goes.” And I suppose he is correct. Before we know it, it is time for the county fair and for the schools to re-open. And we look around to see a number of summer chores still undone. We recall plans for summer activities that we never got around to.
Sad to say, the older we get, the faster time seems to fly. Each year more and more of those wonderful plans have to be postponed, hoping we get around to them next summer.
So, ready or not, autumn arrives. About the only negative thing we can say about this season is that we know it will be followed by the ice and snow of winter. Occasionally a gray fall day can trigger a bit of sadness as we watch the summer plants and flowers wither and die. But this year it would almost be a pleasure to watch our large lawn turn brown. The frequent rains have kept it green and growing without letup. I don’t remember a year when the grass required this much mowing.
Autumn here in the Midwest would be a difficult time not to enjoy, even if we tried. Temperatures are usually mild, neither too hot nor too cold. And the hills and river bluffs take on brilliant hues that are a welcome change after all the lush green of summer. We watch hills covered with maple trees turn red and orange. Oaks take on darker reds and browns.
At times, when walking through stands of birch and aspen trees on a dark, gray day, we almost feel that the bright yellow leaves are emitting a golden light of their own. Plain weeds like goldenrods are suddenly flowers, with their own special color. The red of the sumac decorates many country roadsides, and the leaves of the ivy vines that climb and twine their way high up into tall trees take on their own special eye-catching deep red hue.
I no longer hunt, and don’t get out into the woods and fields as I once did. And I don’t pick up and hull and dry black walnuts anymore. I wouldn’t mind having a few butternuts, but those trees are no longer as plentiful as they once were. Harvesting hickory nuts always seemed to be a matter of beating the squirrels to them. Usually I came in second best. I remember picking hazelnuts when I was younger, and drying them until their fuzzy husks popped open, releasing the hidden nuts. I haven’t seen any of those plants for a long time. I wonder if any or many of the woodland pastures still have sizable stands of hazel brush.
In autumn, our migrating birds leave for warmer climes and the wild geese often honk at us as they fly by overhead. Hibernating animals put on an extra layer of fat to carry them through the winter. The ones that will be out in the cold weather grow denser, warmer fur. And we humans get our snow shovels around, or else tune up our snow blowers. Because winter is now on the way.
WOODLAND AUTUMN
Brilliant autumn leaves all muted
By low fog clouds, hanging gray,
And there’s just a hint of winter
In the mid-October day.
Beaver have been busy cutting
Saplings for their winter feed.
Squirrels frisk through final harvest,
Gathering the nuts they’ll need.
Red fox looking sharp and sassy,
Fur approaching winter prime;
Chubby woodchuck, fat and ready
To sleep through the wintertime.
White-tailed buck attacks the bushes,
Slashes a defenseless tree.
Soon his antlers will be burnished,
From the itching velvet free.
Somewhere in the hazy distance
Wild geese sound their haunting cry.
A great day for reminiscing;
One more summer has slipped by.
Emil Schmit is the 88 year old father of Pam Buttikofer, one of the owners of Imperfect Women. Emil continues to write although age and health issues have slowed him down a bit. He is a is a self-trained poet, free-lance writer, public speaker, and journalist. His weekly column, “Rhyme and Reason,” appeared for over twenty years in the Dubuque, Iowa daily newspaper, the Telegraph Herald. You can read more of Emil’s Bio here. The typewriter pictured on the bio page is one that he sat at for over 50 years creating many of his “rhymes and reasons.”
I don’t remember a year when the grass required this much mowing.
Very true here in the mid-South too. I think the rains of May have continued to nurture our grass all summer. I’ll be so glad to retire my mower until next spring.
Autumn is my favorite season. The cloudless blue skies allow for a brightness that just tells you it’s time for camping, football, and marching bands. When the hint of winter finally reaches us, more like late-November, I find myself wishing we could have a few more of the perfect mid-60’s days.
Thank you for sharing another great poem.
LOVE Autumn!! Loved the poem–captured it all!
In California, our seasons do not change as much as in other parts of the country, but I certainly feel Fall coming and I welcome it – even with the extra work of cleaning up leaves and the shorter days.
-I love the smell of the air. There is just something a little different and the ideal day for me has sunshine, but crisp temperatures.
-Pumpkins! Pumpkin pie, pumpkin seeds, pumpkin muffins – you get the idea!
-Baseball and Football both!
Another great piece, Emil. Nobody writes quite like you do and it always is a pleasure to read your columns.
Emil,
Makes me miss the autumns of my youth when I would hunt the woods for apples and the fields for sweet corn. Great story and a better poem. Can’t wait until winter comes and you convince me that looking forward to a Wisconsin winter is something that is appealing!
Beautiful piece. I love autumn. It’s my favorite season too. Subtler than winter, summer and spring, but it has so much to offer!
Great column Grampa,
The change of seasons is necessary to the mental heath of the people who live here in the midwest. Imagine a place where we would have to endure the chill the bone cold or grill you to the bone heat all the time. Even spring with the relentless rain and flooding seems to wear off after the initial greening of the spirit. While a perpetual autumn is a somewhat pleasant thought, without the change from summer would it be the same?
It’s my favorite season too. I love to get back to school, to watch the leaves turn, and the unbelievably pleasant days. I love to smell the leaf piles burning and bonfires. I especially enjoy a change in our diet, to warmer confort foods. I’ve got bean soup simmering on this chilly, wet fall day. We need the rain in the northeast.
I love pumpkin everything, too Anya. I treated the kids and husband to Tastykake’s pumkin pies in the lunches this week.
Have you compiled a book of poems? You are a wonderful poet.
It’s always so nice and pleasant to read Emil’s writing. Summer does always seem to fly by so quickly. I do enjoy the season change of Summer to Fall. We’ve had some nice crisp morning and nights around here. Such a relief from all the heat we had this Summer.
And I don’t pick up and hull and dry black walnuts anymore.
Oh, you brought back a great memory. My father I did for this years. From the time I was a child until sometime in my 30s. It was such a fun tradition to go out in the woods and then fill up the trunk of the car. I don’t even like walnuts. It was just fun to go and get them w/my dad. My parents like them and my mom used them in her some of her cakes.
Thanks Emil.
Hi, Emil–Once again a wonderful story that makes me only a little sorry I don’t live up North anymore. Just a drive up the Northway in upstate NY toward the Adirondacks is breathtaking. No wonder it had been cited as one of most scenic drives in the country. Here in Florida, the coming of Fall means 70’s at night, and high 80’s during the peak of a beautiful sunny day, a welcome respite from the high 90’s day and night of a summer of brief afternoon thunderstorms that nourished our lush gardens.
I must say, if money fell in my lap, I’d have a Wisconsin Summer lake home, and I’d keep this Florida home for the mild winters. Oh, just call me a dreamer!
Lovely poem, Emil. Thanks so much for the piece.
Fall is my favorite time of year even living in a place that doesn’t have true seasons. I am looking forward to returning to the midwest this fall for a couple of weeks and will most certainly will experience much of what is written about in this post.
Loved the post and the poem. 🙂
Nice story on the shortest season of the year. All in all, it’s not a bad 48 hours here in the north country.