Every early September, I remember my Granny looking outside, or even being outside with her and explaining that fall was upon us because of the “shadows.” As a young girl I would shake my head, agree and move on – honestly not being entirely sure what she was talking about. Now, every year when this time rolls around, I’m surrounded by what she called the “fall shadows.” It takes me back to some of my best memories, childhood and adult, of sitting in her living room and talking about life. The view out her windows is still so vivid, and the smells of southern seasons fill my senses. Oddly enough, I planned to write about this topic several weeks ago as I began to notice the shadows appear. I even told my Mom earlier this week I wanted to run my article on Friday. I felt her presence, as I looked at the calendar, noticing that Friday is in fact her birthday. So, in her memory and her honor, I’m sharing “Ode to the Fall Shadows.”
The dog days are over, and school has begun
The beginning of one thing; the ending of one.
A blackberry winter meant this could be
An earlier cold snap wraps around me.
A chill on my skin turned chill from within,
I’m suddenly struck by a feeling of Zen.
Memories return of times far away
That fill my soul as if they were never astray.
The smell of a kitchen, the raising of yeast.
The feeling of comfort returns like a beast.
The taste of warm bread, complete with soft cheese
The feeling of love, and feeling and ease.
I stare through lace curtains, admiring a sky
that appeared brilliantly blue, to anyone’s eye.
The mountain below, taking full stage
will soon have snow and show winter’s age.
The warm bread arrives, straight on my lap
complete with a drink, and little love tap.
A guest of honor, greeted with food
Followed by a simple “how do you do?”
Then I’m immersed in the stories of life,
And how a change of the season is upon us.
She spoke of the shadows she’s starting to see,
A foreboding of Autumn, so glorious.
The foliage so brilliant, unless wind would steal it, was something we always admired.
The taste of her soups and warm applesauce, of these things I never grew tired.
Until one Fall day, tired she grew, of longing for those who’d passed on.
A husband and sister she saw in her dreams, would finally unite as one.
Simple was she, who knew life’s great riches, didn’t come from an abundance of “things.”
A rich life was full of doing for others, and the joy that fellowship brings.
Every September, I’ll always remember, her face and the sound of her voice.
It’s this time of year, she’s especially near, as the “Fall Shadows” begin to appear.
