Southern Fall, Southern Comfort

I can count on two hands the things I miss about living on the East Coast.

Real bagels and real pizza.
My best friend Bob.
My other close friends. (Robyn, Vincenza, Jahnet, Babs)
That people show up on time or call when they say they will.
Warmer weather in summer.
Thunder and lightening.
And Fall.

The last, Fall, is the only season I miss living on the West Coast. I would rather be tortured than live through another East Coast winter. Well, living through a New York winter would be torture but I guess you get my point. And I have long grown used to living without Summer's sticky humidity that can make normally super friendly New Yorker's quite grumpy (although it would sure be nice to have 70 degree weather more than 5 times a summer) and Spring, it doesn't seem too different in Northern California except that for me, Spring in New York felt a pardon from Prison Winter.

But Fall; I miss the Fall. And I didn't realize how much until we landed in the South just a few days ago and we were greeted with endless trees in hues of deep golden yellow, sun yellow, crisp bright red, burgundy and reds that could pass for brown. Sure, we get some fall foliage on the West Coast. But they are sprinkled far and very few. There is nothing like the ocean of color that Fall brings on the East Coast.

But Fall is more than just the magnificence of color. From the South all the way north to Maine, when the leaves start turning and falling they serve as a reminder that winter is upon us, which means that it is the time for quiet and inward focus.

Since landing over the weekend here in Southern Georgia, the kaleidoscope of colors upon the trees can not be missed. Nature abounds and in every direction there are trees representing Fall. Their reminders of change, transformation and introspection appear as frequent as well as serve as reminders of the endless creativity of Creation.  And the crunch, crunch sounds made by walking feet upon fallen leaves serve as music to my heart and comfort to my soul. 

I love the Fall.

When I was growing up, Fall meant so many wonderful things. There was my birthday to start with. And then later in October there was Gate Night and Halloween. The fun, mischievous mayhem that my brother and friends would bestow my others (myself included) was thrilling and scary all at the same time. For Halloween, my mom used to let us skip Hebrew School to go trick or treating around our neighborhood (sshh, don't tell!) Then there was Thanksgiving which brought my favorite four cousins and their parents over for the day. Then there was the yard work on our large lot. I can still feel my father's rake in my hands. Fall meant we raked the endless leaves into piles. That was one chore I didn't mind. It was hard and long work but it was fun work because when we were done there were giant leaf piles to jump into. Those are some of the happy memories of my childhood.

These memories and feelings came rushing back our first morning in Georgia when we met up with our good friends, the Stone Family, who had relocated back to the South earlier in the Summer. Valerie took us to a nature preserve near our hotel in Marrow. We spent a lovely morning walking (adults), running (kids), smelling, feeling, and being in the peaceful woods. It was the perfect way to land and be welcomed to Georgia. I couldn't think of a better way to reconnect with my dear friend Val and her family, than to spend time out in the Fall woods. And the kids were thrilled to see each other again. For the girls, Eli's move was a bit confusing (where did he go? what did moving mean? is he coming back?) and seeing him again let the girls know that some friends are keepers and that while we don't see them all the time, we will see them again. Kind of like the leaves of fall.

Don and Havana taking in the fresh Fall air.

Catching up.