Something in the Air 8/23/2020

By: Jennifer Richardson Holt

It is coming. I could not possibly be more thankful.  You can feel it on its way. The oppressive giant that is summer in the south is starting to lose his grip ever so slightly. It will still be hot for some time. The air will still be dripping with enough humidity to let you know that you are not to the land of respite just yet so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. BUT, there are other signs, other tiny inklings that something else, something entirely “other” in nature is on its way. The signals in and of themselves may be ever so slight but it is in the air and those of us who endure these summers that last longer than any summer really should have a right to can sense them no matter how minuscule.  The end exists. It may not be near.  We may have to cope with hurricanes and possibly the fires of the last throws of the season attempting to maintain control by flaring up ungodly heat yet again. But, the end is there.  There may be a bit of hell and high water (figuratively and/or literally) for us to make it there but the blazing reign of the sweltering kingdom shall draw to a close and we will quite possibly live to tell the tale for another year.

I am and have always been madly in love with autumn.  I don’t know how you really couldn’t be.  It is unique in its offerings. For those who insist that they just cannot tolerate the cold well fall here does not really offer much by way of cold. We’re lucky if we get something close to cold before we slip directly into winter but we have quite a while before we reach that.  We often tend to keep warmth long past the time that a more northerly environment would have required fuzzy sweaters and coats. We may have needed a sleeve that was something other than long, and even then it very well could have been three quarter length. While I am more than happy to see the heat take a break I’d be fine with full blown briskness but that’s not really something that we get to embrace until the calendar has long since told us the necessary equinox has occurred.

While the temperature is a definite improvement that is not what really has me enamored with the season.  There are many things but the smell of wood smoke just a day or so ago brought it to mind. Something about fall around here, I suppose it may be directly in relation to the weather now that I think about it, but in these parts, it’s like the hive gets stirred this time of year. Suddenly getting out and doing and celebrating things seems far more appealing and less like some sort of hot box torture. It is one of the things that I love most about the season that everywhere you look there are festivals. They are of every variety and with every motivation but it is as if everyone collectively wants to get out and jubilate about anything they can find as long as they can do it in the out of doors in autumn.  One not too far from my home was, for ages, affectionately known as “Syrup Sopping”.  I mean, is there a festival out there with a more endearing and interest grabbing name?  It got its name from the sorghum cane that was being boiled to syrup, served and sold on site.  One of the best aspects of this festival was the early morning offering of a platter containing sausage biscuits and a little cup of freshly made syrup. Yes, the biscuits were from a chain but it is the place that has the really good biscuits (you know which one I’m talking about if you’re from the South) and oh my.  Of course there were other delectable festival foods but that breakfast dish in particular is what made it “Syrup Sopping”.  The history of the town was celebrated, music was played and sung, random goods of EVERY type were sold, glorious food was enjoyed and it was all done out in the spectacular fall weather.  The smell of cooking smoke entwined with the earthy, sweet scent from boiling syrup kettles and scented the cool crisp air. If the fragrance could be sealed in a jar it could be labeled “Southern Fall” and be entirely and wholeheartedly accurate.

And of course, my southern card would be revoked and I would have to move away if I didn’t mention another of the things that it would not be fall here without. Yes, I am going to reference football. I know that the game isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but I want to approach it from the standpoint that I personally believe makes it so beloved by so many people. It is more than just a game I think it is a giant celebration of kindred spirit.  We join together to show our support for institutions that are hundreds of years old.  In gatherings of food and frolic we are all the same, with our love for a school, a team, a legacy. We are all a family with blood that could just as likely flow in shades of orange, blue, black, gold or purple as it does crimson. People from all walks of life have reason to celebrate, or commiserate as the case may be depending on the performance of one’s team, and we do so as a family unit.  We know the insufferable heat will soon relent and for the next few months, giant families with common affection can rally together. And really, the best part is, our common families are often just as happy to rally with other families whose interest may be diametrically opposed; say one clan that bleeds crimson and white whilst the other brood would boast tiger stripes in shades of navy and burnt orange could enjoy a spread of merriment to no end.  Our common love for the giant family gathering that is love of football as one of the quintessential definitions of a glorious fall allow us to revel in the joy of it all even despite our differences.  That is something very close to magical and I assure you it reaches far beyond the bond of long-smoked pork or a well-shaken pom pom.

If winter is the dark night of the year then autumn is its magnificently colored sunset.  The blaze of the midday that is summer is fading and all colors become magnified and extravagant.  The moment has come for a last great hoorah before we settle into a winter slumber.  This is the time of year when it seems everything is at its most vibrant and most ideal.  We shall revel in its cool, painted hues and nestle in, nostalgically remembering the year that was and looking forward with hope to the new year that will be.