What is your favorite part of fall? (09/22/2008)

It's officially autumn, my favorite time of year. The air smells incredibly good, I'm not tired of ripe tomatoes yet and the upcoming chilliness of late fall only teases us at night. The scarecrow is still hanging on the front door and I don't feel the need to start my Christmas shopping yet.

The houseplants are happy to get some real sunlight on their leaves for a few more weeks. I don't have to make room in the already overcrowded house for them yet. Any house undergoing the constant process of remodeling is always overcrowded.

I hope to visit Hueston Woods in southwestern Ohio next weekend with my husband and my brother and his family. The soft trails should be easier on the feet than the hard city sidewalks. Even though the town where I live has clean air, there is nothing quite like air that has been freshly filtered by towering trees.

I almost died at Hueston Woods when I was a teenager. I was walking along with another girl, chatting away about nothing, when I decided to cross the road. If the other girl hadn't jerked me back, the oncoming car would have squashed me. As I recall, we were on the lookout for the prisoners who were working in the park that day. I don't remember if we ever saw any or not, nor do I remember the girl's name who saved me or why we were so fascinated with prisoners.

I haven't visited any state parks this year except for Fort Saint Clair in Eaton, Ohio. I don't consider the Fort to be much of a state park but it is good for an afternoon away.

The Fort was where I learned to roast marshmallows. I was taught to find a good stick, stab a marshmallow and hold it in the flames until the marshmallow caught fire. Nobody was concerned that the stick might be unsanitary, or that the charred remains of the sugary confection might be unhealthy.

My grandmother always said that we all had to eat a peck of dirt before we died. For anyone who isn't familiar with a peck, it is a unit of measurement equal to a fourth of a bushel or eight quarts. This is to be consumed on unwashed carrots, dropped candy, sticks bearing fiery marshmallows or hot dogs, and in other equally unsanitary ways. Her point was that nobody dies from a little dirt.

Besides, there's nothing as much fun as running around with a pointed stick bearing a flaming marshmallow except having a sword fight with them at night. Yeah, those were the days!

Today's mothers are so paranoid that it's a wonder they even sell marshmallows any more. They probably buy special skewers and attempt to sterilize anything the child touches.

All those commercials for disinfectant spray make me wonder how we survived in the days when we would rub a little mud on a cut and keep playing. It makes me wonder if we are sabotaging our natural immunity with all the products we use to keep us healthy.

We also would make giant ramparts of leaves. We would split up into groups and have battles. We had spies who would infiltrate the enemy camp. We also would use ammunition to injure the other players. The ammunition would be anything we could find, from pinecones to rocks. Thank goodness our aim was terrible.

Then we would rake the leaves to the ditch and burn them. We can't do that anymore. We must be sensitive to those who are allergic to the smoke. I know it is healthier this way but watching a truck suck up leaves and pulverize them just isn't the same.

These are some of the things I like about fall. What do you like? Is it the festivals? How about the fresh apples? Maybe it is the coolness of the air in the morning or the sunshine reflecting off a leaf-strewn creek.

Whatever your pleasure, I'm sure you can find something to enjoy about my favorite time of year.

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