Autumn Memories

Autumn was my Dad's favourite time of year. While fall has never been my favourite season – only because winter is close behind - it does have its own beauty which I appreciate. Driving down tree-lined streets shimmering in gold and red is breath taking. The first warning of winter appears with shorter days and cooler nights. Bringing in produce from the garden, emptying flower pots and raking leaves are melancholy reminders to enjoy those last few days of beautiful weather before winter winds start to blow.
Fall seems to bring parents and children together, in an attempt to enjoy the dying days of summer. Tonight I saw a mom staking leaves in a pile so that her little boy could jump into it, much to his delight. My niece posted pictures on facebook of her three-year-old twins playing in the leaves in their back yard. In the store, I saw children and their parents looking over Halloween costumes, in search of the perfect one. Thanksgiving meals are being planned for families to enjoy together.
Autumn for me brings a vision of my dad raking leaves, stopping to lean on his rake to tell me how this is his favourite season. That picture of him is ingrained in mind forever. He loved fall. He enjoyed the change in weather from the hot days of summer to the crisp, clean air of autumn. I think fall was the only season he could take the time to really enjoy. As a farmer, spring was busy with seeding, summer with all demanding work of farming, and fall was the tension-filled days of harvesting. Once the harvest was completed, he had time to enjoy nature and to appreciate fall days.
My dad died in fall. The anniversary of his death was this week. The day of his funeral, my older sister and I commented to each other how fitting it was his life ended in the season he loved. As we buried him, red and gold leaves flew, and the air was crisp and clean. Harvest was done. Dad’s work was completed.
Over the years since he passed away, autumn is the time of year I feel closest to Dad and when my memories of him are the strongest. He is there with me when I rake, clean flower beds and bring in the garden. Without fail, every year when red and golden leaves blow across the yard and when the air turns cool, in my mind’s eye I see Dad, leaning on his shovel and telling me that fall is his favourite time of year. Remembering a special reason for each season . . . it's a good thing.