Life changes along with the seasons

My little witches are clamoring to be released from their box. I think the carved mummy and the tiny scarecrow figurine are encouraging them to come out and play. Christmas decorations have been spotted lurking in the back of the stores. The flower bulbs have been tucked into the ground in anticipation of a spectacular show next spring. Endless football games are on the television. The witches know these are signs that it is their time to shine.
The tiny witches are my only concession to the season. I don’t go all out with decorations. We don’t pass out candy. We barely acknowledge the day.
It wasn’t always like this. In years past, we bought several bags of candy, only to replace them the day before trick-or-treat night. We enjoyed seeing all the youngsters in their costumes. We scrounged a dog treat or two for the few canines that were dressed up. We never, ever saw adults begging for candy.
Some years we met up with my brother and his family at a campground. We passed out their treats while they made the rounds of the other sites, gathering ideas for next year. Other years were spent in worry. It is the time of year when my mother typically falls apart. So far this year she is fine.
One thing I miss from my childhood is the smell of burning leaves. Every year we would rake the leaves into the ditch before setting them aflame. Mom would tend the burning pile while yelling at me to keep my distance. She had to be vigilant because the flames beckoned me to come closer and closer.
Later, when I was a teenager, we would go to the local park and shuffle through the crackly leaves as we explored the trails. We were cautioned to find a suitable stick before the sun went down. Then we would roast hot dogs and set marshmallows on fire. There is nothing better than shivering in front of a fire while trying to avoid the person next to you who is determined to knock your marshmallow into the ashes.
Things change. We change. The highlight of this fall has been not one but two visits from my brother, Michael. He had come up last week for a swap meet and found a treasure he couldn’t live without. He talked our other brother, David, into coming up this past Saturday to help him haul it home.
I baked cookies in anticipation of their visit. They loaded Michael’s purchase onto David’s trailer before they stopped by. They took up a good bit of the block when they parked in front of our house. We talked about trucks, trailers and tractors. We talked about our mother and anybody else we could think of.
We discussed the joys of getting older. We talked about our health and what new problems had emerged since the last time we had gotten together. I heard about David’s visit to a haunted maze and the fun he had. I found out that Michael’s wife was at a retreat for the day. I found out that David’s son steals, I mean borrows, David’s socks instead of washing his own. Now I know what to get them for Christmas.
It was a good afternoon and one that all three of us needed. We all love our spouses but sometimes a little sibling time is necessary. The little witches waited in their box.
As I release them this afternoon I will think about all the Halloweens past. I will remember the pleasant afternoon spent with family last Saturday. The figurines are symbolic, not of evil and enchantment, but of time spent appreciating the love of family and all the rituals of autumn.