Of Chestnuts and Burning Leaves

I remember collecting chestnuts every Fall when I was a young girl. Their spiny, prickly burrs would lie in heaps on the ground beneath the spreading branches of the massive trees lining the neighborhood streets. My friends and I would scoop them up and carefully crack them open to find the glistening, deep-brown nut, flat on one side and oh, so smooth. I still recall how I loved to rub them between forefinger and thumb. I'm not sure what we did with them after that. I don't ever remember roasting them - but one could buy a small, brown bag of roasted chestnuts from vendors on the streets of New York City and sometimes along storefront sidewalks near my Long Island home.

On weekends, all over the neighborhood, homeowners raked leaves and burned them in metal trash cans with holes poked through them. 

The smokey aroma wafted through backyards, over small, moss covered ponds, 

creating halos around the heads of rosy-cheeked children racing bicycles down narrow, winding lanes. 

Autumn smelled delicious when I was a girl.

Many Autumns have come and gone since I was first enchanted by fallen chestnuts, 

but I am still captivated by her many gifts -- 

the chill in the air

pumpkins and apples

  the spread of crimson and gold against a crisp, blue sky

leaves swirling wildly along the breeze ahead of a cold front

 leather boots and sweaters and scarves

football on lazy, Sunday afternoons

wood burning in the fire pit surrounded by friends and family

hot toddies, spiced apple cider and yellow mums 

and more

Welcome dearest Fall! 

It's good to greet you once again.

Delicious autumn!  My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.  ~ George Eliot