As a young child, Halloween meant little more to me than the time of year when I got to play dress up outside of the house and ask strangers for candy. Which was quite daring in itself on any ordinary day. Just exactly what our parents tell us not to do, right? Watching my young adult grow older, this time of year has developed profound significance for me.
The patter of rain on a pile of yellowing leaves brings my mind to the past. I'll reminisce about how my son once jumped with gusto into leaves or wonder when the trees lost their leaves in different cities I've lived in. All it takes is a quiet morning alone with a steaming mug of tea and suddenly I let myself get whisked away into Christina Rossetti's Goblin Market.
Fall wistfully transports us to times past, while we still feel the flush of summer upon our cheeks. Not yet ready to hibernate, the afternoon sun is relished on long walks. Every morning when our dog, Owen, and I go out, I feel thankful that the garden has survived another night without frost. Tomatoes taste even more succulent, because I know it will be another 10 months before they taste sweet and juicy again.
This is the time of year when orange and black rule. Their meanings run deeper than branding a holiday season. Black signifies the trepidation we feel in our hearts as the nights lengthen, as well as the longer, darker nights. Orange's inspiration is the last of the season's harvest, those butternut squash and pumpkins, the ripened leaves blanketing the green grass, the lingering warmth of the sun's rays. So, this season as I'm wearing the orange and black socks my husband bought me, I'm not merely participating in the commercialization of another holiday. Instead, we are all honoring this moment in time, paying homage to autumn, before it passes.