listening

  The season is changing and so to our daily routines. Summer has been packed up and become a memory. From the attics, garages and sheds of America the trappings of fall have appeared. A renewed wave of nostalgia and expectation sweeps over us. Depending upon your past and your location that will be different for each of us. I think the majority of us relate to the seasons in the manner we experienced them in our childhood. That's the whole nostalgia thing, and most of the time we aren't even aware of that. Of course, those with something to sell remind us of all that and promise us the experience once again. Yes, we are sold our own memories.

  With the coming of the fall and winter seasons our activities begin to center around indoor things. Yes, there are those that engage in winter sports and look forward to all of that. Those that hunt relish in the season. Still, the majority of us simply enjoy the warmth of our homes. Those comfort foods make it to the table. A great deal of decorating is also involved as each holiday approaches. That is something that has certainly increased over the years. When I was young Christmas was the biggest occasion for decorating. 

  Today I see quite large displays for Halloween and Thanksgiving as well. Those large fan inflated figures are quite popular in yards everywhere. A sign of the times I suppose. Just plug and play, so to speak. Very convenient. A far cry from when I was young, and it was time to decorate for Christmas. That activity involved quite a bit of work, beginning with harvesting the greens needed from the woods around my house. Lots of walking through the woods, trimming the best branches off the very best trees, eyes peeled for that elusive mistletoe. There was the running pine to gather for trimming the mantle or the handrail on the stairs. Princess pine was mandatory. Those are all my memories of the season.

  At this time of the year, I would be helping with the burning of the leaves. In reflection that seemed more of a traditional thing to do rather than one of necessity. On a cool crisp day we would rake up those leaves and put the match to them. Dad would have the garden hose handy, just in case. It was an event. I loved the smell of that smoke, the sound of the leaves burning was also soothing in some primordial way. A method to extract the last of summer's heat from those leaves that had provided shade, completing the cycle you might say. The lawn furniture was stored away, the garden turned under. The grass took on a dull green color as it entered winters sleep. And the windows were closed shutting out the sounds of the night. It seemed like the world had gone silent.

  Now I do little decorating as it is just the wife and me. The grandkids are all grown and busy living their lives. I have no leaves to rake and burning them is prohibited anyway. Government protecting me from my past I suppose. I usually put up a few decorations, but the excitement is gone from that activity. I think like a fine wine all of that has mellowed down and is best enjoyed just a sip at a time, in moderation and selected carefully. Each piece of decor chosen for a specific sentimental reason. A season assembled from a lifetime of memories. 

 The enjoyment of the memories has become the focal point more so than any expectations. You have to reach a certain age to understand that. Indeed, you have to have reached a certain degree of maturity to appreciate that. You learn to enjoy the seasons and become acutely aware of their changing. When you are young you hear the chiming of the clock on the hour, if at all. Later on, you will hear each tick, each tock, as the clock progresses through the hours, days and years. And that will be true even in this digital age when the clocks make no sound. 

 "I hear hundreds of years of life. I hear wind, and rain and fire and beetles. I hear the life of the trees this wood came from." (Garth Stein)