Pumpkin Pie and Applesauce
Ahhh Fall is upon us. As excited as I am, being that this is my favorite time of the year, I’m also a bit saddened. Unfortunatly I won’t be going home at all this fall/winter, so i’ll be missing out on all the fun. It’s been years since I’ve experienced and entire New York fall/winter season, but I’ve always been able to go home at least once around this time. Anybody who’s never been to the New England area during fall is missing out on some amazing stuff. Sure there’s some maple and birch trees around here, but imagine thousands and thousands of them sweeping and dancing across a landscape that goes up and down in hills and valleys–some red, shifting to orange to yellow and back again. Fall, of course is always started officially (for me anyway) when we pick pumpkins. I remember going to pick pumpkins from wherever had the best, he grocery store or some farmer looking for a few extra bucks. Then we accidentally planted our own–and found out WE have the best pumpkins. Soon after comes the smell of pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread. The sweaters come out of the closet. And then the apple picking. Have you ever taken a bite out of an apple that you just picked off the tree? Intense. Applesauce, mom’s chunky homemade apple sauce. It’s like having Michael Flately dancing in your mouth. All too soon the snow comes, bringing an end to fall. A short lived season–even in NY–but one that’s always packed with tremendous experiences that are probably some of the highlights of my life.
Tara on 
stephanie on 
Carleen on 
November 10th, 2003 at 13:09:02
Oh, Mike! This is something I can seriously relate to (I believe it’s called homesickness). How can I ever forget our first Christmas in Peru, with the entire day spent sunbathing at the beach before going home, closing all the curtains to block out the summery weather, and starting on my Christmas dinner, playing all the familiar Norwegian Christmas songs (that was my first mistake - lots of tears that year!). Or New Years Eve in Aberdeen, no fire works at midnight, no ships hooting in the harbour, no snow crunching under our feet, no point in waking up the kids to wrap them up warmly at midnight in order to go and find the tallest hill with a good view of the fire works all around. Or arriving in Bartlesville, no mountains growing out of the landscape, no smell of ocean, no screeching of seagulls! (or no seasons for that matter).
If you don’t get a chance to go home next fall, I’ll fix your mom’s apple sauce and pie, I promise! - it won’t be as good, but the smell might be much the same. We can even watch Chani, so that you and Carleen can take a trip in the direction of Branson - at least you’ll get a gorgeous view of all the changing colours on the trees!
Mom 2