My ancestors are rolling over in their graves. I spent $40 on cornstalks. My desire to transform my yard from the pinks and purples of summer to autumn’s hues of oranges and reds had me buying mums, gourds and, yes, corn stalks.
I was raised in a large family of farmers. While growing up, I was assured of fall’s arrival when half the boys in my class would miss school on the first day of hunting season.
I never wanted a camouflage jacket and trusty rifle so badly. We weren’t hunters, but I would have done anything to get out of school for a day, even don camouflage overalls and the brightest orange hat ever made.
Other than pumpkin carving, I don’t remember decorating for fall as a kid. If we did, we would have walked to the nearest corn field and cut a few stalks ourselves. And the pumpkins we picked fresh from the field.
Fast forward to today. I don't live on a farm. Over the weekend, I bought five bundles of corn stalks for $8 each. (Yep. That sound you hear is definitely my ancestors spinning down there.) I then Edward Scissor-handed my way around the stalks, turning them into rustic arrangements I hoped Martha Stewart would be proud of. That's something those beginner hunters who ditched school could never do.
It's fascinating how society follows the economic nudges given to us. This year, I started dreaming about pumpkin spice lattes while slapping another burger onto the grill.
Marketing on social media worked. I’m already considering taking the boxes of Christmas decorations out of storage soon. That’s because last week, while shopping, just beyond the Halloween candy, I saw Christmas lights set-up next to chocolate Santas and flimsy stockings.
It usually follows the Fourth of July, when I start to speak of my eagerness for the fall transition.
“Fall is my favorite season."
"I can’t wait to see the leaves change.”
"The crisp air is such good sleeping weather.”
Those all are all variations of my pining for something different. The subtle Bath and Body candle scent changes from Summer Boardwalk to Pumpkin Bonfire snuck into my psyche. And the retailers know we're always looking for what's next.
Particularly in Ohio, it seems we’re never happy. More sun, but not too hot. An early fall, but the leaves need to stay on trees longer and snow can come only for visual effect during the holidays. The spring bulbs should bloom soon after.
The older I get the more patient I become. Patience is a virtue that took a long time for me to master. Journalism taught me the hard way. You cannot force someone to call you back for a story. You can’t rush an investigation when more documents are crucial. For years I would repeat to myself, “Breathe”.
On Sunday, as I positioned my cornstalks in their designated urns, leaves from the tree above fell on cue. It was the perfect arrival of autumn, though I couldn’t resist thinking about how beautiful the branches would look once they're covered in snow.
See, fall isn't even here yet and I'm longing for what's next.
I’m going to walk over to the coffee shop now for a pumpkin spice latte. I need something to keep me going while I edit a story on the first day of hunting season. If I hadn't blown so much money on cornstalks, perhaps I could have bought a camouflage vest and taken the day off.
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