Fall Comes to New England

Here is a wonderful slideshow of Autumn in New England. My favorite time of year. I THINK it'll finally start feeling like Autumn soon!

Mums the Word

Last weekend we hopped in the car and meandered down the windy, hilly roads of north-western Connecticut. We brought a picnic lunch to Lake Waramaug in Litchfield County, and lounged on a small sandy beach watching brave people in bathing suits wade into the water. The sun warmed our backs as we nibbled on assorted delicacies and took in the stunning views: glassy still water; brilliant foliage dotting the hills; and cows. (Yes - cows. There is a cow pasture that sits on the northern edge of the lake.)

Who knows what awaits us this weekend. Will it be more leaf-peeping and country driving? Will we hit some farmstands and load up on apples, gourds, pumpkins and cider? Maybe it's time for hayride? A visit to a winery?

Welcome back, Autumn. So glad you're here.

Soup Weather

Ahhh, fall... my favorite time of the year, and not just because my birthday is coming up! I've always loved fall, and sweaters, and new beginnings, and... soup. Yes, I'm serious. I am a soup lover. My husband might even go so far as to say I have a slight problem with soup. In his meat-and-potatoes view, I'm possibly a soup-a-holic.

There is something about the way fall arrives just after the hottest time of the year, which also happens to be my least favorite season. I'm a sweaty mess for most of August, and it is always a relief to have to dig out a sweatshirt instead of contemplating how much naked flesh I am willing to inflict on my poor defenseless neighbors.

Yesterday was a beautiful day down here on Cape Cod. The temperature hovered around 60 degrees outside, and I decided it was just cold enough to justify making soup. Lately, I've been on a potato-leek kick, so I decided to mix it up a little and make some cheddar broccoli instead. I had picked up a ginormous bag o' frozen organic broccoli florets at B.J.'s on my last trip, so I trundled out to the garage and grabbed a some from the freezer.

I covered them with chicken broth and shook in a bunch of minced dried onions, and left it to simmer. It started smelling good, and pretty quickly the broccoli had thawed and cooked and was falling apart, ready for the next step. I was just about to start dumping in the cheese, when I looked into the pot to give it another stir. Something caught my eye - at least a dozen somethings, actually.

BUGS! Little tiny fruit flies or something, apparently frozen in with the broccoli. Bleah! The more I looked, the more I saw. I scooped out a couple and looked under a toy magnifying glass I dug out of the toy chest to make sure I wasn't looking at discolored broccoli buds. Nope, BUGS.

No soup for me, people. Luckily, it is time for another one of my fall favorites to appear in the store again - Honeycrisp apples. One of the very first blog posts I ever wrote was an ode to the Honeycrisp apple, and my ardent passion for this particular variety has not waned in the last two years. I have been known to (gulp) order them on-line from an orchard in NY state, and they get delivered in their own little individual foam cradles.

The funniest thing about these odd passions for certain foods is how they get passed down to the kids. The soup thing is apparently skipping a generation, because I can't get either kid to willing eat any kind of soup. The Honeycrisp thing, however, has become just as much of a passion for my daughter as it is for me. When I brought home the groceries last week and was putting them away, I said to her, "Guess what time of the year it is?" Not even a heartbeat passed before she yelped, "HONEYCRISP! WHERE ARE THEY?!?" and came storming into the kitchen to search them out.

Sigh. I'm so proud.

Winter is just around the corner. Are you ready?

Today I fulfilled another right of passage that comes with the crisp autumn air. It wasn’t as fun as picking apples, baking or getting lost in a corn maze.

Today I officially pulled out the sweaters, long sleeve shirts and jeans. I pulled out the pull overs and fleece sweaters. The sneakers and thin hats. And in there place, in the big empty tub, I put away the sun dresses, the tank tops and bathing suits. The sandals and shorts will soon follow. The shorts were left because we need them for soccer, and as anyone in New England knows, you can wear long sleeve tee shirts with shorts on those in between days. I know some of those clothes will come out next year, to be worn by one of the girls, but like any kids, Moe will probably grow a little too much to wear some of her dresses. As I was putting them away, a wave of nostalgia hit me as I thought of the times I saw her in those cute little outfits, wondering just how much she’ll grow over the new few months. Will she still fit the purple starred sundress I sewed this spring? Will the blue dress Mema made still fit? And I hope that some things will still be her size and that she’ll still like dresses come summer.

It’s still a tad too early, but I did peek at the winter coats in the back of the closet. The snow pants in the basement and the boots in the bag are still waiting to come out.. I recently washed them all when I had just a small load to do, so that’s one small task completed. I know before long, we’ll be grabbing those in the morning as the air gets cooler. Already, the girls have been reaching for the fleece pullovers as they head out the door to school. By mid afternoon when I pick them up, the fleece is shoved into the bottom of their backpacks, only to emerge again the next crisp morning.

These next few weeks will involve other tasks designed to get one prepared for winter. Already, the pool is put away, the riding toys are off to the side and the bulbs have been planted. The bushes need trimming, the gutters need cleaning and the leaves need raking. The storm doors need to be put up, the grass needs some seeding. Some times I wonder what is the point? In a few months, when we come out of hiding, it’s all going to start again. The toys will be pulled out, the grass left to yellow (toys and dogs tend to kill a yard fast), the bulbs that were not eaten over the winter will sprout.

Autumn is my favorite season, but with it comes work. A lot of work that goes into making my yard a haven to birds and butterflies, for kids and friends. A place to relax in and to have fun. I know in the long run, that all this hard work will pay off.

When do you pack away the summer items for good? Do you pack the clothes now or wait until a little longer? I know that the weather here is always unpredictable and that we may be reaching for the shorts until December, but there comes a time when you just have to make the switch. For us, the unused clothes is within grabbing reach, so if it tends to stay warm, we can pull out what we need.

Visiting the Big E this Weekend

We go to the Big E every year.

The Big E, or The Eastern States Exposition, is like the world's fair, but geared towards New Englanders. It has rides, food, animals, vendors, entertainment - something for everyone. It's located in West Springfield, Mass, not far from the Connecticut/Massachusetts line.

My first visit was back when I was in high school. I was in the marching band, and we were invited to march in the parade on Connecticut Day, and then we had the rest of the day to enjoy the park. I looked forward to that every year! After high school, I took many years off from the Big E, just because my life was busy, and the Big E was a bit far for me to visit.

Fast forward to living here in Western Connecticut with my husband and kids, and we get up there every year, no matter what. We love the local fairs, but the Big E is worth the ride and the fun. I've walked the grounds very pregnant and pushed strollers through the crowds as well. I typically get a massage from one of the vendors (I LOVED this when I was pregnant) and I eat way too much. My husband and I enjoy the food and the animals. I gotta thing for cows - especially the swiss! I also love the horse shows. The kids love the rides, the petting zoo, the yummy treats and the circus!

And one of the best things is visiting the state houses, called the "Avenue of States." They set up state houses for the 6 New England states in a row, and you can weave in and out of them, checking out vendors from each state, which includes information about each state, favorite foods known to each, and little shops filled with great trinkets. One year we bought a wooden dog food crate that we STILL keep in our kitchen, and we bought our son's first wooden booster seat/desk/rocking horse that he'll be able to keep forever.

If you get a chance, check out the Big E, which runs from September 14-30. It may be a little bit of a ride, but it's a great day with the family. And if you have little ones, go during the week, if you can, to avoid the big crowds. Montgomery Gentry, Taylor Hicks & Josh Turner are live onstage, if you are interested. Eat a yummy baked potato, some blueberry pie and some chowder!

And enjoy it all!

Have you felt it?

That chill in the air? The scent of wood burning in someone's fireplace? The flame bushes in front of the library turning red? The squirrels going 'nuts' (pun intended) under your trees, looking for things to store for winter? Your grass greening up again for one last push before it dies off under all that snow?

Yup, it's that time. Summer seems like it's officially gone by. It's time to put the shorts and camisoles away and pull out the sweat pants and sweaters. It's time go check the winter jackets to see if they still fit. To look in the basket at the bottom of your hall closet for mittens, gloves, hats that can make it through another winter.

The fall catalogs are arriving daily. A week or two ago, the clothing looked ridiculously hot and itchy. Today they look comfortable and warm. Polar fleece, that staple of New England fashion, is starting to appear on the streets. The North Face Logo is all around us. Soon, the Uggs will be on the feet of teenagers and this old mom.

We New Englanders are a hearty lot. We take this change of season well considering that daylight is waning and soon we'll be living in the dark most of the day. From now to December the days grow shorter and darker until one day we realize that we haven't seen the sun at all.

The first snow will arrive shortly. Even though the Farmer's Almanac says we're going to have the warmest winter on record, we can't totally avoid snow. My neighbor, Mr BePrepared, has already put up his snow stakes in front of his house and long the driveway. No plow will make a mistake at his house!

Our family has taken out the down comforters already, but we still have the window air conditioners in. You never know in September. We could end up with a couple more 90 degree days before winters tight hold grips down upon us. You just never know!

Cape Cod in the Fall

One of the things I love about living on Cape Cod is the way the people leave at the end of August. Don't get me wrong - I'm not a tourist-hater - but the drop in population (and traffic) is always welcome. Since we moved here almost 8 years ago, the year-round population has increased to almost 250,000 residents spread throughout the Cape. In contrast, I read a recent article that said almost 6 million people visit the Cape each year, which is roughly equivalent to the entire population of the state of Massachusetts!

With this kind of population explosion and contraction each year, many businesses shut down for the off-season. Over the years that we have lived here, I have discovered many year-round places to enjoy, but if you are thinking of coming here for a visit, I recommend coming in the fall. September and October are great down here - the weather is mild, still hot enough for the beach at times but cooler at night. The seasonal businesses don't begin shutting down until the end of October. You can drive up to almost any restaurant, park right in front, and be seated immediately, no matter how crowded and exclusive it may be in the summer months.

The best part is the great outdoors. Right now, it's green and lush outside, but in a few weeks, the colors will start to come out. The cranberry bogs will turn scarlet, and the trees will flame, and a walk around the bog in the back of our house will be a new adventure for my kids. The bugs that make slogging through the woods miserable for them will go away, and as the undergrowth thins out the kids are happy once again to go poking around for rocks and leaves and twigs - treasure!

If you are thinking of coming to the Cape in the fall with your kids for outdoor fun, The Insider's Guide to Cape Cod website has loads of information. There are conservation areas and walking trails all over the Cape. One of our favorite places is the Botanical Trails in Yarmouthport. You can also find guides on the websites of most towns under conservation or recreation. For example, here is the list of downloadable PDF files for various Barnstable trails.

For rainy days, there are other options, such as the Cape Cod Children's Museum, but honestly? Some of the best nature walks I've had with my kids have been on these not-too-warm, not-too-cold drizzly fall days ...just like today!

Ruminations While On The Road

Driving home today from meeting up with some of the other great women who write this blog, I noticed some of the swamp maples were already changing colours. Not many, but there were blazes and flashes of reds and yellows in the stunted little trees that grow alongside the Mass Pike. Fall is around the corner and I couldn't be happier. I live for sweaters and trousers, I pore over the L.L. Bean catalog, circling items I can't afford, reveling in the sheer preppiness of it all. Oh, oxford shirts, I love you so. Ankle-length corduroy skirt, you will be mine one day. I love fall. I do.

I once, foolishly, while married to husband #1, agreed to move to Atlanta with him. It was warm there and we'd just come off one of the worst winters since the blizzard of '78 (yes, I am old enough to remember that one - three weeks off school! Heaven.) and I'd had enough of snow and shoveling and power outages to last me a while.

So we packed my five year-old son, three cats and several suitcases into a Subaru XT Coupe and drove to Atlanta. I know. Believe me, I know. Do you have any idea how much fun it is to drive thru the Blue Ridge mountains at 3 a.m.? In the pouring rain? With three cats squalling in your ears and a semi barreling down on your ass? I'll just let you ruminate on that one for a moment.

All set?

OK. So we found an apartment just outside of Atlanta and it was nice. Warm, but nice. We moved in September, so the weather wasn't unbearable. A started school and enjoyed it. I was lonely, but tried to make friends (with a spectacular lack of success, I might add). Suddenly it was Thanksgiving. And it was still 80 outside. I grilled a turkey for the family. Grilled on the grill. I grew wistful. Where was the foliage? Where were the cornstalks and pumpkins and gourds? Where was the bittersweet, always the last glow among the greying bushes and trees? It wasn't there. What passed for foliage in Georgia was pathetic. It went from green, to greenish-yellow, to brown. That was it. Whoopie.

Winter rolled around. They canceled school because it was too cold. The temperature? 12. Above zero. Oh, how I laughed. We had half an inch of snow and the entire state lost their collective minds. Everything shut down. Grocery stores, gas stations, everything. I stood outside the Publix with my mouth agape as I watched the manager rushing people out of the store so they could make it home before the worst of the snow.

Then came spring. Spring lasts about five minutes in Atlanta. It's a gorgeous five minutes, full of blossoms and smells and a fresh breeze. It's like a child playing dress-up; it puts on all of its finery at once and just as quickly abandons it. Then you're in to the long, hard slog that is summer in the south.

It gets humid up here in New England and I hate it - I'm the first to admit that I become a big, whiny cry-baby when it's humid. (Like it was yesterday. Oh, how I griped.) Atlanta humidity makes New England's look positively wussy. The bugs. *shudder* The bugs still give me nightmares.

That's a cicada. They have them by the thousands down there. They swarm. They crunch when you drive, or, god forbid, step on them. *gag*

This little beauty is a Palmetto bug. They are huge. They can crawl under just about anything, including the slider that was on our back deck. One day, when I was about 8 months pregnant with O, I found one in the shower. With me. Imagine, if you will, one wet, hugely pregnant woman, leaping about the bathroom, shrieking her head off, shampoo flying in all directions as she desperately tried to find something, anything, with which to kill the bug. It's a wonder my neighbours didn't call the cops for fear I was being murdered.

I didn't really like Atlanta. Because a.) I don't like bugs and b.) I don't like heat and those are two things that are in abundance down there. But what really got me was the lack of seasons.

There's a comfort in the predictability of the seasons up here. You know you have to get thru a possibly brutal winter in order to get to the long, slow, unfolding kiss of spring. Spring slowly turns to summer, teasing you at first with a warm day here and there, before it finally lets loose with a few precious weeks of glorious sun, brilliantly blue skies and warm days, days when you can smell the fields being hayed, when an ice cream melts at the perfect rate and you live to hear the crack of the bat, maybe worship at the Church Of Fenway. You know some of July and most of August will have long, humid days, when all you can do is sprawl under a tree or lie in front of a fan and dream of snow.

And then it's fall. Fall in all its glory of reds and yellows, creating a patchwork of colour that rolls over the hills and valleys, so gorgeous it catches at my throat. I realize just how much I love it here. I complain (it's the local pastime) about the weather and the roads and the drivers, but I feel at home here like I've never felt anywhere before. These hills are like an eiderdown, comfortable and safe, and I know around the next curve there will be a white, wooden, steepled church or a common with beautiful old homes or an old mill now housing a bookshop and an antique store. These roads and hills are as familiar as an old coat, as welcoming as an old friend. When people ask where I'm from, I'm always proud to say I'm from New England.

photo: VT Dept. of Tourism