Memory Lane & Lucas Street

I like fall:
it always smells smoky,
chimneys wake early,
the sun is poky;

Folks go past
in a hustle and bustle,
and when I scuff
in the leaves, they rustle.

I like fall:
all the hills are hazy,
and after a frost
the puddles look glazy;

And nuts rattle down
where nobody's living,
and pretty soon . . .
it will be THANKSGIVING.

by Aileen Fisher

And there's nothing like returning to Hometown USA where the landscapes are vibrant this time of year and every gust of wind produces a kaleidoscope of color swirling through the sky. Here's Lucas Street where I grew up, the sidewalk where I roller-skated and rode my bike, and the hill down which we raked the leaves into the street. Mother would wrap our hair in scarves so it wouldn't smell smoky and  the raking party ended with a bonfire in the street. We roasted marshmallows on sticks and the smoke curled into ribbons at days end. 

Here's the building where my daddy went to first grade, where I did as well, and where I graduated from high school. The old bell tower, rung only once a year by graduating seniors, is gone now. Along with that tradition, I recall the one that forbade underclassmen from entering from by any door other than the ones on either side, reserving the center doors for juniors and seniors. 

We gathered buckeyes from beneath the trees near where our parents and grandparents lay.

Aunt Christine recently turned ninety-eight. She's says that number doesn't bother her but the thought of ninety-nine sounds scary. Her treasured hand-written letters have become sparse in recent years, but I have a stack that I have saved, that I can read and re-read. She always began with "I am sitting at the southeast corner of the kitchen table"...or the "north end"...or the "west side". And so, today we sat around all sides and reminisced. 

There was always much work to do on the farm, but Aunt Cnristine took time to ease us "city girls" into the routine. She patiently let us bottle-feed the lambs, scoop grain for the calves, and pour milk into bowls for the ever-growing family of kittens. She took us to the woods and introduced us to wildflowers and mushrooms. To this day, I coax my husband into letting me spray in our own little woods so that I can save the trillium and the Jack-in-the-Pulpit that she taught me to recognize. 

Long before I was a mother, this lady was teaching me. She once remarked that it was hard to know which way to turn to get one's work done sometimes. Her theory was that first thing in the morning you take care of what yells or smells and the rest kind of falls into place. When I became a mother, I realized there were some days you really didn't get further than that. 

 I remember her saying she often would leave her work at the children's bedtime to read to them and lie down with them until they fell asleep when she would get up and finish her day. While other aunties might have been scurrying around in the kitchen, Aunt Christine always took time to have a project for us kids. She taught us to make doll dishes out of acorn hats or walnut shells and how to fashion ballerinas from hollyhock blossoms that danced in a bowl of water. Her eyes sparkled today as I reminded her of our fun memories. She mused thoughtfully, "Well, children are only young once, you know." How well we both understand that fact, now. 

How glad I am to have grown up in this sleepy little one-horse town. Today it was full of sunshine and leaves and blue sky and people who colored my childhood like the autumn's splendor.