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Our columnist awakens to the joys of seeing autumn in new ways.
A couple of years ago, I finally realized where all the spooky stuff of Halloween comes from. Nature! How did I miss that for so long?! But alas, now that I see it, it’s everywhere. I have to focus to avoid getting a spiderweb in the face each morning, monster-sized pumpkins are growing in our garden, bats zip through the sky at dusk.
Fall arrived all of a sudden, as it always does; you can almost watch it happen. In mid-September, the temperature snapped down a few degrees and a deep orange moon lumbered low and heavy across the sky; a harvest moon.
The incredible bounty of fall is also something that went over my head until recently. How is it that you can still eat warm, sweet tomatoes off the vine, pluck big juicy figs from the tree, begin to enjoy persimmons and pomegranates, and be in the mood for soup? It’s outrageous and a balm to the loss of summer stone fruit, melons, and sweet, crunchy corn.
Light is a big part of fall too. Not just the darkness no one loves, but the pastels that everyone cherishes. The pink moment is not just for Ojai. Santa Barbara sunsets radiate pastels across the sky from October through November.
Perhaps it’s not just these radical displays of beauty or the abundance of produce that makes the fall. Maybe it's the contrast that makes it so memorable. In the fall, the Pacific Ocean temperature starts to plummet, making wetsuits more about insulation than sun protection, but beach days are still downright warm and beachy. And the lack of people on said beaches is a contrast of its own. In the magic of Montecito, beaches empty out come late September and only locals are left to enjoy our second summer.
So when asked to pick a favorite season, it might just have to be fall. No, I will never buy a pumpkin-spiced oat latte, but I will take time to really absorb the fleeting colorful, contrasting, bountiful, spooky ways of fall.
And I will continue to let fall change me.
- I don’t kill spiders. A decade ago I did, but now my daughters and I work together to gently release webs that may be disturbed by moving cars or closing doors; my toddler son has named a giant spider living outside his bedroom window, Mama Spider. They are beneficial, welcome, even beautiful.
- I dream of electric boats. I never understood noise pollution until I started ocean swimming. October is peak ocean swimming and lobster season and fishing boats are astonishingly loud underwater! (And they stink above water; diesel fumes are actually nauseating as a swimmer.) I can only imagine what the whales think …
- I stop and smell the gardenias. Spring gets all the credit for fragrance, but the gardenias blooming in our yard stop me in my tracks. And in doing so, they help me pay attention to how much unnecessary rushing I do.
- I eat okra. I thought I had the farmer’s market dialed, but okra caught my eye recently and we went for it. My many years’ judgment of okra as slimy and gross has been replaced by its bouncy bite in a delicious Thai green curry. Yum!
- I look for foxes. Recently, two foxes have started regularly visiting us at dusk. They come for the avocados; we hope they stay for the company.
What will fall do next?!
