by MD Maurice
Autumn in New England, written for the Terrace Group, Assignment #48
|Word Count: 378
Setting: Southeastern Connecticut in the Fall
Plot: Description of the local area and the seasonal changes that make it special
Beginning: Description of growing up as a child
Ending: What Fall means to me as an adult now and how it defines me as a New Englander.
Ever since I was a little girl growing up in New England, I've loved the fall. You wake up to bright mornings with crisp air, to days that seemed to spark with color and light. You tug on your sweater and tights and rush off to school where the bulletin boards are adorned with crepe paper ghosts and Thanksgiving pilgrims. To a child living on the Connecticut shoreline, this time of year holds promises of inviting leave piles in backyards, of hot chocolate with marshmallows, corn mazes and hayrides and of course, Halloween. The days are always ripe with activity and the fresh clean air hints of snow days just around the corner.
I love those first few days of autumn, when you see just one or two yellow or red leaves amid the summer foliage. Then, seemingly all at once, the world becomes a brilliant painted canvas. The rich golds, oranges and reds line the roads and clog yards. I've long resisted the urge to sweep and gather those beautiful leaves until the colors had all faded to rusted brown.
In my corner of the state, the landscape can resemble a postcard destination. The waters of Long Island Sound are bordered by acres of trees trussed up in the full plumage of fall and picturesque lighthouses stand like white stone sentinels in the still bays. The cooler weather makes for quieter waterways. The mass exodus of boating tourists yield to the locals who make their living on the water hauling lobster pots well into the unforgiving months of the New England winter. It’s not uncommon to see an old wooden hull laboring past, spewing dark smoke, carrying its crew out over the swells to where their catch lies waiting beneath the waves.
I’ve traveled a lot in my adult life, and found that each time fall rolls in; I have a deeper appreciation for this special season and its profound effect on my part of the world. Like the harvest moon can seem impossibly luminescent and ripe, the days of autumn seem bursting with restless possibilities held too long at bay by the humid days of summer. The world outside my window is vivid and bright, invigorating me and filling with a bountiful hope.