Thank you for visiting common-woman. Strong, good thoughts and kindness come your way. friend. Rest in the assurance that you are so precious. God made you that way.
My aunts enjoyed the fall season. In their basement was stored the abundance of summer gardens. The fruits of the labor of many pleasant hours of work rested there in the dim light. Quart and pint jars of tomato juice, pickles, chow-chow, whole tomatoes, green beans, jams, jellies, strawberries, applesauce, pears, cherries, plums, sauerkraut, corn relish, and peaches decorated the shelves. Potatoes, sweet potatoes, squash and pumpkins were heaped on newspapers. Ropes of onions hung from nails. A wooden bushel basket of black walnuts waited to be cracked. Hedge balls were strategically placed in the dark basement corners, to lessen the number of crickets.
Flowers and herbs in clay pots welcomed the thin sunlight at the basement windows. These would be set outside next spring. Rose scented geraniums perfumed the air. Hand washing hung neatly on a drying rack. The ironing board and iron were stored behind a curtain. The wringer washer, wooden laundry stick and the double tubs were covered with an old sheet, ready for the Monday washing. In the center of the big room, there was often a quilt in a frame.
"Fruit has been scarce this year," my aunt would remark as she selected a jar of peaches for the noon meal. A gentle reminder to appreciate the study sweetness of orchards and fruit trees.
We climbed the wooden stairs to the kitchen door, careful to remember to turn off the light behind us. As we sat down at the quiet kitchen table, a silent bowing of our heads over folded hands prepared us for the meal. Along with the peaches, we enjoyed ham sandwiches on whole wheat rolls and glasses of cold water. Raisin cookies and vanilla pudding were a treat for dessert. After our meal was finished, we bowed our heads once again in silence, thanking God for the food we had shared in good company.
The few dishes were washed and dried, the floor swept. We were ready to go outside and pick up the remaining black walnuts under the trees.
Our eyes were dazzled in the bright sunlight. Standing still and blinking for a moment, this poem learned in a one-room schoolhouse would be remembered and recited:
“October’s Bright Blue Weather”
O sun and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October’s bright blue weather;
When loud the bumble-bee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And golden-rod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant;
When gentians roll their fringes tight To save them for the morning, And chestnuts fall from satin burrs Without a sound of warning;
When on the ground red apples lie In piles like jewels shining, And redder still on old stone walls Are leaves of woodbine twining;
When all the lovely wayside things Their white-winged seeds are sowing, And in the fields, still green and fair, Late aftermaths are growing;
When springs run low, and on the brooks, In idle golden freighting, Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush Of woods, for winter waiting;
When comrades seek sweet country haunts, By twos and twos together, And count like misers, hour by hour, October’s bright blue weather.
O suns and skies and flowers of June, Count all your boasts together, Love loveth best of all the year October’s bright blue weather.
Helen Hunt Jackson
And then we would busy ourselves gathering walnuts and sharing our time together.
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