Autumn Reflections

Autumn at Codorus State Park, © 2022 by Andrew Smith

The wheel of the year has turned once more. The autumn equinox was observed on September 22nd. It is my hope that the warmer temperatures are behind us now. I love the crisp days of a traditional autumn, the vibrant colors of the trees and fewer hours of daylight. For me, there is something cozy about the sun setting earlier and having the fireplace lit. I seem to think more clearly in the darker months. I am probably a minority, but after autumn, I even welcome the cold and snow that winter should bring. Sadly, in my opinion, during the last few years, our autumn and winter months have been mild.

I refer to this time of year as “The BER Months,” and they are my favorite four months of the year, filled with celebrations! Of course, they end in December when we celebrate my oldest granddaughter’s birthday, Christmas/Yule and the New Year. November brings our anniversary and Thanksgiving, both times of love and joy. October marks my other granddaughter’s birthday and Halloween/Samhain. Kicking it all off, September marks the celebration of another trip around the sun for me within a day or two of the autumnal equinox.

In my spiritual tradition, Mabon is celebrated on the autumnal equinox and marks the second harvest. While the first harvest was celebrated in August with the gathering of grapes, berries, corn, wheat and grain, Mabon marks harvesting and feasting on the last of the corn, beans, squash, apples, pumpkins, root vegetables and pomegranates. Wine and cider complete the table. The final harvest of what is left in the fields is completed by Samhain, which occurs on October 31. By then, all crops will have been brought in and prepared for storage. The dark months follow when the earth slumbers until it awakens in the spring, ready to provide us with foods once again.

A celebration of our ancestors also takes place on Samhain. A small shrine is assembled where we gather photos of and light candles for our ancestors to honor their memory. Special mementos from them are sometimes added as well. I have loved hearing the stories of my ancestors since I was little, and over the years, I became the family historian, the keeper of stories and photos. Celebrating the harvest and our ancestors is an important part of this very special time of year for me.

Holidays were always a time of great celebration with my parents, grandparents and other relatives. My mother, along with the help of other family members, always made them memorable.  Since I was a child, this has always been my favorite time of year, so now it is the time of year that I miss my family the most. As an only child, I spent a lot of time with the older members of my family and was very blessed to have had this time with them. My maternal grandparents lived just across from us, so they shared a lot of time with us and were always with us on holidays.

I have very special memories of Halloween, the kid’s high holiday of autumn. My dad would take me trick or treating while my mom stayed home to greet those who rang our doorbell and get ready for a little family party afterward. I wish my daughter and two granddaughters could have experienced Halloween as I did.

When I was in Elementary School, we went home for lunch every day. On the day of Halloween, we would return to school after lunch with our costumes. Many of our mothers came as well, bringing homemade cookies and other treats for our class party. But first, there was a parade. Our parents who were there, as well as the neighbors, would line up around the fence of the schoolyard. Then all the grades from K-6 would be led out by their teachers for a parade in front of them to show off our costumes. Following the parade, we returned to our individual classrooms. There we played games and enjoyed the party foods and beverages. At the end of the school day, we headed home, properly fueled, and hopped up on sugar. 

In the late 50s and early 60s, you didn’t have to worry as much about what was in your trick-or-treat bags. Most of my neighbors gave us homemade treats, and they were something the neighborhood kids and I looked forward to each year. We remembered from one year to the next which house gave you homemade taffy, caramels, popcorn balls, candy apples, cookies, brownies and other delicious offerings. A man in our neighborhood worked at a dairy and would always give us a little half-pint carton of orange drink. One neighbor, in particular, was my favorite stop. At her house, she always would invite you in. Dad and I usually went there first! After I showed off my costume to her and her friends who were visiting, she would serve us pumpkin pie and cider. She always had her dining room decorated for the occasion. I remember actually going inside many of the neighbors' homes during trick-or-treat so everyone could see the costumes.

I enjoyed trick-or-treating with my dad. We didn’t venture far from our immediate neighborhood, but as we walked, he would tell me stories about his adventures as a little boy on Halloween and some stories about the mischief his dad and uncles participated in when they were young. He would even throw in a ghost story or two.

When we got home, it was time to celebrate with my family. Mom’s pumpkin pies were waiting for us. There is no such thing as too much pumpkin pie! There would also be warm gingerbread with whipped cream, Senft potato chips and hot mulled cider. The crowning jewel of the evening for me was when we would light the candles, turn off the lights, and my dad would read Edgar Alan Poe’s “The Raven” to us. As with other holidays, I was allowed to stay up well past my bedtime on Halloween night. I reveled in every minute of our celebrations.

There is one Halloween in particular that stands out in my mind. I had gotten ready for bed, my belly was filled with goodies, and I was warm and snugly in my flannel pajamas. My normal routine was to sneak into my parents’ bedroom. There I would sit on the window box for a bit before climbing in my bed in my room down the hall. This night I could hear the autumn wind blowing rather strongly and was mesmerized by the sound of it. The leaves swirling in large circles and dancing up and down the street fascinated me. I was around eight at the time. Being fueled by spooky stories and a proper Halloween atmosphere in my house, I was convinced these were spirits dancing in the street. I remember reflecting on something my great-grandfather told me. He said that when you heard the wind howling, the voices of our ancestors were calling. I still listen to them to this day.

— Lisa Ann Spalding Deeter

Lisa Ann Spalding Deeter is a native Yorker. She embraces her “crone years” and enjoys adventures with her husband, who like her, appreciates nature. Her interests include new age studies, history, and genealogy.

Lisa Ann is a member of the Creative Writing Special Interest Group of the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute of Penn State York.

All works copyright Lisa Ann Spalding Deeter and/or Andrew T. Smith