Friday, November 1, 2013
I love autumn. I love the cooler weather. I love the comfort foods that make your house smell like your mom's house smelled. I love living in an area where there are actually trees that change color. I grew up in northern California. We had holly trees that didn't change. We had evergreens that didn't change. We had oak trees that turned a yucky brown and cluttered the yard until my brother or I was forced to rake them.
Ah, but the Wagner sisters, who lived one street over and 1/2 a block down, had maple trees. They had three maple trees that grew in the dirt between the sidewalk and the street. Their house was on the main road up to Deer Park School so all of the walking schoolchildren, needing colored leaves for their autumn projects, would seize upon whatever leaves had fallen or whatever leaves they could reach. I was fortunate. I was tall and my brother was even taller. We always got leaves for our projects and my mom made sure we always asked the Wagners first.