Harvest Days-Humbug

I wish I was one of those people who loved Fall. I am not. Fall color, cider, apple crisp- they are distractions. Evil is ahead.

When I was younger, September meant school and the exceptional terror that the Sisters of Charity  doled out. How to avoid corporal punishment crossed my mind. We went to a school where the Good Nuns could whack your hair to your eyebrows for overlong bangs, or crack you with a ruler for sloppy handwriting. Defensive learning was a MUST. Forget your homework? Stand in the wastebasket with your nose on the blackboard. Yikes. So…. I was not romanced by new crayons or notebooks. I had seen the enemy and she had a pointer, and no sense of humor whatsoever.

Now I am old and wily.  I am not seduced by pumpkins and candy corn. The beautiful Christmas lights beguile me, but they do not fool me.  What dwells beyond is short, dark days: the Midwestern nothingness of Winter. And far more football than I ever want to share a room with. (Sunday all day and night, Monday Night, Thursday Night and Saturday all day for college.Come On!)

I know what is lurking just beyond the holiday season. Sure- an end to football. But mostly the aforementioned Nothingness.

Snow. Sleet. Cold. Gray. Gray. Gray.

I am pre-pouting and grieving, I know.  It is unbecoming. I blame it upon being Irish. Melancholic shamrocks dance in my brain.

In an effort to rewire this crabby brain, I am going to concentrate upon the good things about Autumn.  Every day (or so) I will scribble  about some special treat the season holds. I plan to look for good things, overlook what makes me a bitch.

Good plan, right?  I’ll try to be brief. Breezy, even.  I’ll need the loft.

Today: Autumn will bring me my newest grandson, Jackson. (#3 woo hoo- age has its rewards!)  Though it is impossible to conceive of, my baby is having his own baby with his wife Justine.  He will be a Scorpio.  This is ominous because  (were I given to subscribing to a pagan notion that the nuns would crush me for) what other sign is named for a poisonous critter?   It is also my dear husband’s sign; if I have learned anything, it is to step aside from his dark side. On the positive side: he is quiet, and that is desirable in a baby. If there is a God, and the Nuns insisted He saw every damn thing I did, he will be as oppositional and mysterious as his Dad.  Revenge will be mine! (just kidding, Matt)

I am counting the days. Mary will have Henry to toddle behind and Jackson to boss around.  I will have three wonderful reminders that my time here mattered, and three cuddly reasons to make the world a better place. This grand baby will live in the next town over, and soon will be joined by the Pat Dahl family. A second generation of Lyons Township Dahls. Perfect.

Ahead:  A new romance with baking? Crafting? Story hours? Family dinners?

It is a good time to dwell in possibilities. Like the possibility that I will learn to cook and bake.  That DOES make me smile.

I’ll keep the list of Fall joys coming.  And maybe a few Winter ones.

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