At the same time, I was sad to be watching the leaves wither and fall to the ground. There was a feeling of the earth dying, showing off in one last blast of riotous color before turning into the grey of winter. If summer was sun, sea air, and the cries of gulls, fall was a cool breeze, dew on the grass and spiderwebs, and the scent of burning leaves.

Scent is a funny thing. It triggers so many things in humans, not the least of which is memories. Back when I was 10, my mom moved the two of us up to Knoxville, Tennessee, so she could attend the University of Tennessee and work on her PhD in Anthropology. (For those that are into that kinda thing, yes, that’s where Dr. William Bass taught, who formed the first and best known “Body Farm”. Mom took classes under him, and he was a wonderfully sweet guy to the 10 year old kid sitting in his classes next to her mom, including his forensics classes.) (Why yes, I did have a weird childhood, why do you ask?) I was not the happiest kid in the world about leaving all of my friends and moving to some strange town, and sulked for a good chunk of the time there.

Around October, Mom found out that Silver Dollar City, a theme park in Pigeon Forge, TN, was having a Fall Arts & Crafts Festival. Mom was a big believer in getting culture and education in while having fun (and if it was inexpensive, all the better!), so we drove up on Saturday to check out the park. When we got there, it was open, tour buses were lined up and dropping their passengers off, and the BBQ pit was in full gear. We spent the day wandering around, checking out the crafts, watching the blacksmithing, glassblowing, and giggling at the lines of people staring at the quilters (my great-grandmother was still alive and very much still quilting at the time). I was fascinated with the chandlery and had to be dragged out of there. The colors of the waxes fascinated me to no end, until we saw the weavers and my brain completely popped.

By the time the day was over, Fall became cemented in my head with a full array of memories: the fascination of learning, colors from every spectrum, the scent of BBQ, charcoal and diesel exhaust, a crisp breeze, red plaid fabric, the sounds of crowds and the crunch of dead leaves, and missing friends and family horribly. To this day, most of those can still trigger a melancholy in me for a moment, but only for a moment. Then the good memories rise to the top, and I start to think of the possibilities that fall can bring.

Like finally being able to wear things I knitted! WOHOO!