The Beauty of Autumn

My one surviving pumpkin vine (the others were mercilessly snacked to death by stink beetles) gave me three fat, healthy pie pumpkins, and one tiny faerie pumpkin that I have given to my elderly neighbour, Shirley, to decorate her table. Today, I roasted one of the three (and froze half) for lunch, and made a jar of fresh mayonnaise whilst I waited to use in the macaroni salad that happened by accident when I spilled a jar of dried pasta all over the wet counter that I had just scrubbed. I used some of the pickled dilly eggs I made last Spring that have been waiting patiently on the same counter without a single nod, and the last of the radishes out in the yard, so it looks like I’m noshing on this and roasted pumpkin seeds for the next few days.

The day that began sunny and blustery has given way to damp cold and low, crackling thunder that comes in irregular rolling waves in the fast grey sky. It’s a good day for Autumn fare and doing quiet things indoors. I’m bored with cleaning, and it’s too cold to wash walls for painting. I’ve been reading Madeleine L’Engle’s “A Wrinkle in Time” quintet, resurrecting an old October tradition of mine for the first time in many years, but today is not a reading day, exactly…unless I make some cocoa and go back to bed. Can you do cocoa and pumpkin on the same day? I wonder….

I finished a cross stitch of dark dragon silhouettes banded by peacock colours that I now need to find a frame and a home for, began another of a trio of owls for Miss Robin, and I’ve been fingerpainting one of those old-fashioned roll-up canvas window blinds to look like a dreamy watercolour garden when it’s drawn down; it will be hung in the North window behind my bed when it’s finished, to help keep out the cold on nights when Winter winds blow.

This past week my friend, John, died; his funeral was yesterday. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. One night, he went to bed with his beloved wife, Mary, told her goodnight with a kiss and a hug, rolled over, and was gone. Just like that. Poof! Done. I do not think that there is a more perfect, simple way to die, right on the heels of doing something so kind and ordinary. What a great way to end an exemplary life! A few days later, another friend who called to tell me (again) that John was gone, told me about how shocked she had been to go to a funeral recently for a woman whose children had her buried in her fluffy pink bathrobe; I think she was put off by my saying that my hope is to be buried in my nightgown, wrapped in my favourite quilt (how unseemly!)….Then I realised that I still haven’t made any nightgowns for this Winter.

When I die, it will likely be something entirely stupid, requiring great pain, a tremendous, expensive fuss and a lot of swearing, but there is now a pile of white flannel on the kitchen floor, cut into pieces from my favourite pattern to be sewn into new, warm gowns to last me a while. Knowing my luck, I’m going to live until I’m 107, but if I go at anytime after next week when my sewing project is finished, you all know what to do. In the meanwhile, I’m thinking about making a pumpkin pie with a graham cracker crust. Few things go better with sewing. Except brownies. Brownies trump everything….

I wonder what would happen if I put pumpkin in brownies.

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