Turquoise Autumn

November 9, 2009

autumnThe startling turquoise of the sky behind russet and golden leaves made me think of my mother the moment I opened my eyes this morning.

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Mom has been gone for over a decade but the colours of autumn always bring the best of memories.  These colours were of the favorite dress I ever had.  She sewed the dresses like crazy to be done for holiday, one for her, one for me, one for my sister.  The material was crisp, medium plaid with azure and turquoise running with rust, bark, golds, maple, wheat colours.  I think she thought that plaid the loveliest material ever too.

Autumn means to me, Mom at her finest.  She was a vivacious, wild card, yet Martha Stewart-type.  A wild card, period.  Ask the family.  But she was down-to-earth.  The farmer heritage ran through-and-through.

She never stopped harvesting.  Rhubarb, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, peaches, apples, grapes.  The vegetable garden, her gardens.  I think an acre with everything consolidated.thruautumn

The best ever, I think, was Mom stealing walnuts from the farmer.  Well, the tree did stand by the road.  The walnuts did fall in the middle of the road.  They did stay there for days on end after they fell.

But every year we stole them.  She rushed in with the back of the car right by those walnuts.  Hurry Hurry.  Out we would jump, us two girls, sometimes our cousins or a friend.  We would throw the walnuts into a box in the trunk and she sped us away.  Us innocent children fearing arrest.

Did I say she was a wild card?  She was a light.  In those moments, she was a light.

Every year we dumped walnuts from the farmer’s tree on our driveway.  She would drive over and over them, crushing off the shells.  Then she wore gloves as she cracked them with a hammer and brick, and we dug the walnut meats out with darning needles.  Glass jars of walnuts were on our shelf all winter.

You know what that meant.  The first batch was chocolate walnut fudge and buttered popcorn.  The beginning of the holiday spree.   Like I said, a wild Martha Stewart, never-ending of baking and decorating.  Those were Mom’s good days.

Rake and pumpkins laying on wine barrelTurquoise autumn sky.  Dad hauling huge pumpkins to the front yard that she had milk-fed.  Time to deal with the chickens before winter.  Pruning grapes, digging bulbs.  She could wear long sleeves again, she hated short sleeves anyway.  The last chance to get out and see some friends before winter snows kept her in the county.

But mostly, it was all about that dress.

Essa Adams

Essayist, writer, novelist.

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A Breath Floats By: An Illusion for the Soul

Mature women in women's fiction.

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4 Responses to “Turquoise Autumn”

  1. wanda clayton-mallory Says:

    Essa was so excited to see you on facebook and knew I would get some wonderful reads. My first
    turquoise autumn, of course I wasn’t let down. ;O) I will be waiting anxiously as you write each one.
    Hugs

  2. Susannah Morgan Says:

    Lovely!

    It reminds me of my mother who has been gone since 1998. There are still Sundays when I find myself gettng ready to call for one of our Sunday Chats.

  3. Essa Adams Says:

    thanks Wanda! i am on here now to republish a few favs from last year. Am looking forward to more writing time now new websites will be ‘finished’ and working for themselves. so I can write! you do know there are two blogs? Pet Skunk Medicine on Facebook and Women’s Fiction Blog on FB. I run the pet stories on both quite often. But if you do both, you won’t miss anything.

  4. Essa Adams Says:

    Susannah, that is about how long since my mom passed. Sundays were the one day I could find her at home if I was early enough. I remember finding her in the garden with her hoe. The one vivid dream I had of her after she passed, she was wearing her old garden clothes.

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