Reflections on the Ninth Week of Fall – Topsy-Turkey Season

Watermelon and Pumpkin

    Cradling a watermelon in his arms, Spence burst through the front door Thursday. “I brought you a watermelon,” he said with the enthusiasm of an adventurer returning with the Holy Grail.

   After a spring, summer, and fall of watermelon to distract my sweet tooth from sinking into dessert, I fancied pumpkin pie, pumpkin cookies, or pumpkin cake this week before Thanksgiving. Trying not to sound disappointed, I acknowledged his find. “A watermelon.”

   He grinned, turned the melon over, and pointed to the label on the bottom. “It’s organic too.” Spence placed the watermelon in the center of the table beside the small pie pumpkin, which had been ripening off-vine for nearly a month. Stepping back out the door, he left to fetch more groceries from his truck.

   The dark green melon dwarfed the now orange pumpkin and graced the table with a summer and fall mishmash.

   This confused centerpiece may not have jolted my sensibilities if an NPR radio ad hadn’t driven me nuts all week. That darn commercial followed me whatever I did.

   Hustling to the pool—

“Trader Joe’s turkey and stuffing . . .”

    Washing the dishes—

“ . . . seasoned chips for the flavor of . . .”

    Sewing falling leaves—

“ . . . Thanksgiving in a potato chip.”

    Thanksgiving in a potato chip?

    Why waste time crunching? Scrape the feast into a blender, turn the dial to pulverize, and gulp the results. Sheesh.

    Give me a plate of steaming Wells Wood mashed potatoes, butternut squash, asparagus, purple beans, and cranberries with homegrown onions and celery cooked into the stuffing. Add a roasted free-range turkey. Top the dinner with pies from Wells Wood pumpkins and blueberries. I’ll savor the tastes, talk with family, and forget the sacrilege of turning Thanksgiving mainstays into a potato chip, which belongs at summer picnics.

    But I don’t fault the radio or Spence for my sensitivity to topsy-turvy seasons. Mid November arrived with rusty oak and tawny beech leaves clinging to understory trees. Bare branched maples and cherries stretched higher into the sky than their summer forms seemed to reach. Temperatures dropped seven degrees lower than average, and snowflakes fell only to melt on landing. Nature set the scene for Thanksgiving.

    So when I brushed my teeth at the bathroom sink and turned, my glance traveled through the bathroom doorway, across the great room, out the sliding glass door, over the deck railing, and under the branches of the white pine stand to our flock of wild turkeys.

    They bent and pecked at seeds in the mowed field by the edge of the woods.

    I put down the toothbrush, walked across the room, slid open the door, and stepped outside for a closer look.

    No turkeys. They must have heard me coming and disappeared into the woods.

    Later in the week, I washed my hands, after cleaning kitty litters, and glanced outside. The turkeys had gathered on the south field again.

    This time I didn’t chance the noise of the sliding door. I left the water running, tiptoed into the bedroom, and peered out the window.

    No turkeys.

    How could they have heard me? I walked back, turned off the water, and dried my hands. Puzzled, I glanced outside–turkeys.

    What?

    I squinted. The dark turkey shapes merged into long green needles on a low pine branch.

    Okay. This time I imagined the turkeys, but last time they bent to peck at seeds.

    A breeze tossed the branch. Bowing branches had seemed like bending turkeys. I laughed loud enough to disturb the turkeys gobbling in the woods.

   I’m mentally ready for an old fashioned Thanksgiving even if the free-range turkey isn’t roasting in the oven yet.

    Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Falling Leaves in Summer???     Blocks for the Country Charms Raffle Quilt