There is no doubt in my mind that Fall is the best time of the year, at least in Canada, at least in those parts of Canada that I have inhabited. Second best is Spring, third Winter. Sorry Summer fans.
What more can you ask for - it is crisp, it is bright, it is beautiful with all its colours, it is no longer hot, there are no bugs.
On the other hand, it's the start of cold season, and I have contended with a cold this week. It is the price you pay for perfection. The first two weeks of school constitute a perfect storm for pathogens, it seems to me. All the kids of the world get together after their summer free from hand washing and teeth brushing, get packed into classrooms, gloaming their cruddiness on desks and pencils, dodge balls and door knobs, and then take it home to dad. Or, it's my students - those grimy, awful 20-year-olds.
Yet, despite that, this is the season of pie - apple, pumpkin, and berry; it is the season to leave behind hot dogs and hamburgers, which, for as intrinsically perfect as they are as foods, are getting a little old by mid August, you'd have to admit. So, turn on that oven, cook up those stews, roasts, chillies and chowders (I am blessed to have had Anne-Marie do both a chilly and a clam chowder this week - and they turned out great!)
I didn't report on the state of my garden much this summer. It was a summer of distraction and mere survival. Yet, here I am, after having planted a mere three pumpkin seeds, with part of my basement and my kitchen table covered with pumpkins. (For the record, several plants grew from last year's rotten, discarded pumpkins I threw into the garden - note for next year.) We can use half of them, but half of them have to go. It will be easy enough to get rid of them. I wish I could drive them down to Toronto and sell them on the street for $10-20 a piece.
This year the harvest included a baby!
So, living in Barry's Bay I am in Autumn heaven.
The leaves are beginning to change, it is dipping below zero at night now, and I am starting to wonder where my running shoes are.
Today, apparently, is the first day of duck season. Happy hunters are in the marshes blasting away a little bit of cherished Canadiana - the Canada Goose. I am not the least bit remorseful over that. They poop all over the beach where my kids take their swimming lessons. I saw them there at night when I went for my evening bike rides!
Get 'em, Pa!
If you have never shot a shot gun before, you ain't livin'. I always imagined that my first experience with a shot gun would involve a zombie. Not so, it turns out.
But alas, I heard the furnace come on last night, and watched little cartoony dollar bills flying out of my windows. For as good as Fall gets in Barry's Bay, nothing is perfect in the sublunary.