Show & Tell Friday: All Things Fall

So, barring the fact that my eyes are so swollen from being up late with a screaming 5 month-old I can barely see out of them to type, I. am. determined. to. be. positive. Especially in this post.

Or, as Meg Ryan says in French Kiss: I will triumph!

Moving on.

Fall.
Autumn.
The harvest season.
Or, as I like to refer to it: the most wonderful time of the year.

I adore Fall. Maybe it’s its incandescence–its fleeting nature–that makes it so special. It’s only here for a heartbeat–the falling leaves, the crisp air, the crystalline blue skies, the silver morning fog, the vibrant colors laid like a wizard’s cloak over the mountains. The football.

But I love it. I’m swept up when it’s here and sad when it’s gone. If you ask my husband, he’d tell you that I like to over-commit to Fall. I plan an abundance of activities, including–but not limited to–hot chocolate and S’Mores in the backyard fire pit with friends, hiking above the Blue Ridge Parkway with friends, walking to the Farmer’s Market every Saturday morning, popping by the bakery, going to the pumpkin patch, taking mini road trip through the mountains to tiny mountain towns nearby, piling up leaves and letting the kids and their friends (and our dog, Scout) jump in them, watching “Fall movies,” decorating our house for Halloween and then Thanksgiving, and oh so many more. Oops. I forgot football.

I sort of have a Fall fetish. But Fall and I understand each other. We’re there for each other. We are kindred spirits, the Fall and I.

So, in celebration of my favorite time of year, here are 7 Things to Share/Love/Do this Fall:

1.) Hike up along the Blue Ridge Parkway.

If you don’t live near enough to get to the Blue Ridge Parkway, I am terribly sorry. It’s an incredible place, especially in the Pisgah National Forest section of North Carolina. Just last Saturday we headed out with friends and hiked with our kids up to the Fryingpan Mountain Lookout Tower, then picnicked afterward at the Shut-In Trail overlook. Fryingpan is a great little hike to do with kids (ours were 4 years-old, 3 years-old and 5 months old, respectively) that ends with a big bonus. You can hike up to the tower, but the trap door to get up to the big viewing area is currently latched–due, I’m guessing, to the government shutdown. That being said, you can still hike up almost to the top and see out of the gorgeous Blue Ridge.

The leaves weren’t changing too much yet, but it’s already been a week and the leaf-changing moves fast at this elevation. I’m guessing there’ll be a lot more color this weekend, and certainly by next weekend.

Here are some shots of the view from the lookout tower:

Our hiking crew, at the Shut-In Trail overlook in Pisgah National Forest

 

There are hundreds of miles of trails in the Pisgah National Forest, with a variety of elevations, and many are still open despite the shutdown. Just Google “Fall hikes in Pisgah National Forest, NC” and see what happens.

 

2.) Head to the local Farmer’s Market

We’re lucky: we’ve got a farmer’s market we can walk to right in our town–the Transylvania Farmer’s Market. Packed with wares from local farms including hormone-free beef and chicken, honey, eggs, vegetables, fruit (apples!), goods made by local artisans (jewelry, wood art, furniture, fabric arts and more), and serenaded by local pickers, it’s the place to be on Saturday mornings. At least until it gets too cold to do anything round these parts. (Psst: lots of farmers and tailgate markets are open past the harvest season–ours is open through December.)

3.) Pick up a new book

Chilly Fall nights are the perfect time to snuggle in bed with a good book. Lately, I’ve been rereading some old favorites. But here are a few on my radar to checkout:

The Outcasts by Kathleen Kent (historical fiction set on the 19th century Gulf coast)
A Thousand Mornings by Mary Oliver (poems by the Pulizter Prize-winner about life on the Massachusetts coast)
Strong Enough to Die by Jon Landis (a thriller starring 5th generation female Texas Ranger Caitlin Strong)
Shake Down the Stars by Renee Swindle (a tale of love, loss and the human spirit)
The Bookstore by Deborah Meyler (debut novel about a woman who finds answers in a quirky little bookstore)
And anything by Alice Munro, who just won the Nobel Prize in Literature!



4.) Watch an Autumn-themed movie or TV show; or heck, anything that makes you think about Fall

cast of the Gilmore Girls

My favorites, the stuff I watch over and over each year, are the movie Runaway Bride with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere, and the TV series Gilmore Girls. Runaway Bride is set in a small town in rural Maryland, and the scenery is gorgeous–Fall colors and small-town charm everywhere you look. Gilmore Girls is set in small-town Connecticut (the town, Stars Hollow, hosts a festival every chance it gets) and is filled with a quirky bunch of townsfolk with whom you’ll fall quickly in love. Pour yourself a cup of hot cider, grab a warm quilt and prepare to stay awhile.

5.) Speaking of cider …

Any hot Fall drink will do. Around football season, we like to spike ours with Bourbon. Every general store is selling cider right now, and the spicier the better. If you like hot chocolate, try whipping up some of your own. My Grandmama Scottie used to make the most mouth-wateringly delicious homemade hot chocolate in a pan on her stove. Nothing’s better than homemade.

Here are a couple of my favorite recipes:

WARM CITRUS CIDER (from Southern Living magazine)

Ingredients:
1 gallon apple cider
2 cups orange juice
1/2 cup lemon juice
1 orange, sliced
1 lemon, sliced
1 1/2 tsp whole cloves
3 cinnamon sticks

Bring the above to a boil. Reduce heat; simmer 10 minutes.
Discard solids.
Garnish with an apple slice and serve hot!

Makes 4 1/2 qt.
Total time: 25 minutes

DELICIOUS HOT CHOCOLATE (from The Pioneer Woman)

Ingredients
 2 cups milk
2 cups half & half
1 cup Good Semisweet chocolate chips
1 tsp sugar (optional)

Combine milk and half & half in small saucepan.
Warm over medium-low, then stir in chocolate chips.
Stir until melted.
Add more milk and chocolate chips as needed to taste.
Add sugar if you need more shugah.
The Pioneer Woman suggested dropping a couple of peppermint patties into each mug for an extra special kick.

Serve with whipped cream!

6.) Listen to live music

There’s all kinds of live music around Western North Carolina any night of the week, and I bet if you check, it’s available in your town, too! Tonight, my family’s headed to Oskar Blues Brewery in Brevard to listen to our friend Bradley Carter of Sanctum Sully pick and sing!

Thomas Wolfe once wrote, ”All things on earth point home in old October; sailors to sea, travellers to walls and fences, hunters to field and hollow and the long voice of the hounds, the lover to the love he has forsaken.” So wherever you are this Fall, enjoy your home. Find a pretty spot and share it with the ones you love. I know I will.
 

Advice from Peter Pan

Over the weekend, my daughter turned three years old and was baptized. Three years old. I'm more in awe of this fact than I am that she didn't turn to the congregation during the baptism and announce that she was going to get "big girl underwear" when she starts "tee-teeing and poo-pooing in the potty." I was sure it was going to either be that or, "Mama? Who are all these people? Why's that man putting water on my head?"



Witness our desperation.
We call this shot, "Waiting for the Tee-Tee"

And no, she's still not potty trained. I know. I don't want to talk about it right now.

Everything, however, went off  mostly without a hitch. We hosted a "pirate ship party"--per her exact instructions--at the Pink Beds Picnic Area of the Pisgah National Forest, had gorgeous weather, hung out with cool people, ate cake, and drank mimosas. It was a fabulous morning.

Yes, we drank mimosas. Not sure if this is legal in the national forest or not. My husband and I decided there needed to adult beverages to celebrate our reaching the 3-years-of-parenthood point. Like how I slipped that in there, don't you?

She was baptized at the United Methodist Church in our town. Her bear, Baloo, was also baptized. My Mom saved the day with an emergency purse sucker. And, we officially joined the church we've been visiting for a while now. Here we are before heading into church. See how neat and tidy we look? We didn't look quite like this afterwards.

All in all, a dang good weekend.

This morning, I turned to my calendar--which I have positioned on the wall, at eye level, next to my pristine and beautifully bare desk. (Cough.) But that calendar, egads! It said today is July 31! This should come as no surprise to me, really, since my daughter's birthday is July 29. And still, I am flummoxed.

What happened to the summer?

When I was a kid, my parents told me that this would happen. They said, "Life will only go by faster the older you get." They also said, "The nerdy boys will turn out to be the real catches, so appreciate them," "You'll regret it if you don't spend that summer in Alaska," and "Marry someone you can have fun with for the rest of your life."

Gems, pure gems. I, like most people, realized my parents were brilliant the moment I turned 21.

But this life-speeding-by-thing. Man, that's a kick in the pants.

J.M. Barrie
Photo credit: www.biography.com

On of my favorite writers, J.M. Barrie--the Scottish playwright who wrote Peter Pan--offers a little wisdom on this front, and I like to try to remember it.

On May 3, 1922, Barrie addressed the graduating class at St. Andrews University in Scotland. His speech was very much about courage--about how to walk through your life as a good person, and how to make sense of it.

(On a side note, his address is incredible, and Barrie seems a bit of the soothsayer. Consider this challenge he issues to the graduates before him, and remember that this was 1922:

"I want you to take up this position: That youth have for too long left exclusively in our hands the decisions in national matters that are more vital to them than to us. Things about the next war, for instance, and why the last one ever had a beginning. I use the word fight because it must, I think, begin with a challenge; but the aim is the reverse of antagonism, it is partnership. I want you to hold that the time has arrived for youth to demand that partnership, and to demand it courageously."

Wow.)

The whole speech is incredible, truly, and worth reading. But it's what he says about time that stands out for me, especially in these quickly passing summer days when I've got ten different roles I need to play--and be good at--and a million things to do. On a larger scale, I think it speaks to our desperate need as modern Americans to slow ourselves, to calm our brains, to put away the (mostly electronic) nonsense--even temporarily--and to remember what it's like to be human, corporeal and flawed, flesh and blood and bone with only a limited time on this planet.

Barrie said: "You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by. Yes, but some of them are golden only because we let them slip."

All summer, I've been trying to let "the golden hours" slip. I've written about it here. Most of what I write about here, it seems, are my aspirations. Sometimes I reach them, but mostly I fall short. And even as I write the first sentence in this paragraph, I realize I'm sort of lying to myself.

So, as July moves into August, and we're faced with truly terrifying calendars and the threat of a busy Fall to come, here's to letting "the golden hours slip by."

I think we could all benefit from a little advice from Peter Pan.

Photo credit: www.en.wikipedia.com

Reclaiming Summer

Rhododendron in Pisgah National Forest
(Credit: myspace.com)

The rhododendron are blooming in the Pisgah National Forest. Milky white with pink centers, in fanning green bushes tall as trees. On my favorite trail they grow like a great tunnel, canopying above. Running beneath them yesterday, the smell was like the forest exhaling summer.

It was only my second trail run since I'd sprained my ankle pretty terribly last month. If you're a runner, or even a part-time runner, you know what the first run back after a break is like: it's wonderful. Truly, you feel like a rock star, like you could run for days.

And then there's the second run. This was yesterday for me, running on very sore legs and a grumpy ankle encased in an Ace brace, my eyes scanning the trail ahead for unruly roots or rocks. My dog (an extremely athletic, almost 9 year-old black lab) bounded ahead, pausing only to drink from creeks or to look back at me as if to say, "What's up with you? We're in the forest, don't you get it?"

Then there was the rhododendron. And soon I was looking up, breathing in. Sure, I felt every jar in my ankle, blinked back sweat from my eyes, readjusted my sloshing Camelback. But when my dog shoots me one of those looks, one of those looks that says, Come on, you ridiculous human, this is the LIFE, it's imperative that I listen.

At the end of my last post I mentioned seizing the summer, trying to recapture the essence of what made this season so spectacular when we were kids. But it's hard, isn't it? Our lives are insanely busy, complicated, and the days pass so quickly that looking at a calendar is a recipe for whiplash. But if we don't do it--don't slow down, don't take a moment to just be--then the moment is lost, and we never get it back.

It's time to reclaim summer.

Here are three items from my personal "to do" list--things I hope will help me take back summer from the oppressive heat, the jam-packed schedule, the blood-thirsty mosquitoes in my backyard:

My daughter, 2 years old, baking a birthday cake for her daddy yesterday.

1. Enjoy time with my daughter. Really enjoy it. Take her for walks in the woods, for creek adventures and ice cream. Show her how to catch lightning bugs. Listen to what she has to say.

2. Read as many books as is humanly possible. Even if it keeps me up late at night. Even if I look a decade older in the morning. Read anything I want--magazines, books from the bestseller list, biographies, beach reads. Be brave enough to put a book down if I don't fall in love with it. (As an English professor, I have a hard time with this.) But summer is far too fleeting to trudge through a book you don't like.

So far, my reading list this summer has included Jeffrey Eugenides's The Marriage Plot, Melissa de la Cruz's Witches of East End, Patricia Hampl's The Florist's Daughter, Adriana Trigiani's The Shoemaker's Wife, and various issues of Garden & Gun, Southern Living, Poets & Writers, Parenting Magazine, and a little book a dear friend gave me that we keep in the bathroom, called Very Nice Ways to Say Very Bad Things.

3. Breathe. I mean it. Really breathe, deeply and cleanly, inhaling the light (the smell of rhododendron in full bloom, wafting scents from restaurants I pass on my walks around town, my daughter's giggles, my husband's clean shirts, the sweet early morning mist) and exhaling the dark (too little sleep, a calendar that would make the most "together" woman I know weep, short tempers, a cluttered house).

After all, it is summertime. And the intrinsic magic of summer never really fades, no matter how old we get.

So what's on your reading list? (I need ideas!) What do you plan to do to enjoy summer?

Literary Idols and Luck

There's a message from one of my literary idols on my cell phone right now. No kidding: this man is my favorite living writer--possibly my favorite writer of all time. I'm still hornswoggled by the fact that if I dial for my messages and push "2," his voice is there. And it's not a joke.

He's on my voicemail because I recently wrote him a letter, care of his literary agent, asking if he'd consider reading a review copy of KEOWEE VALLEY, and if he likes it, possibly offering a blurb. Honestly, I never in my wildest dreams--and as my husband and anyone who's had to share a room with me over the years can attest, they are wild--thought he'd respond. I never even thought he'd get the letter. My guess is that this particular gentleman receives mounds of fan mail each year, much of it from wannabe writers who are also fans. But I've been reading his work since I was 10 years old, worshipping the way he crafts words on the page for so very long, that when it came time for my first novel to be published, I had to take the chance.

I'd tell you his name, but I'm superstitious. (This is coming from the same girl who in high school didn't change her stinky-nasty-sweaty soccer socks until we lost a game, and offers up the same exact prayer before road trips that she's been repeating since age 15.) I really want him to like my novel. If he doesn't, I'll be okay, but I don't want anyone to know that. Let me just tell you that he's a modern Southern literary icon, that all his books are bestsellers and many of them made into movies. He's the voice of the South, at least to me. His writing sings and pulses and burns, and he's the literary touchstone of my South Carolina childhood.

There.

When I first listened to his message, I thought someone was playing a cruel joke on me. But as he kept speaking, I knew it was real. My legs literally went out from under me, and I sat in an ungainly lump on the floor in my house. I momentarily lost the power of speech. He said many things in his message, but one thing he did say was that I'd written a "terrific" letter, and that while he tried to avoid doing blurbs any more, when someone writes him a letter like that he has to read the novel.

There's a waterfall in Pisgah National Forest, near my home, called Courthouse Falls. It's about 50 feet high, and there's a deep pool at the bottom. It's dark in this part of the woods, even in daylight, and in summer everything is green, mossy, slick and growing. I jumped off those falls in near pitch-darkness for the first and only time, a little over a decade ago. Night was falling fast and deep as it does in the Southern woods, and all I could see as I curled my toes over slick rock and rotting leaves was the vague white of the water where it crashed into the pool at the bottom. God, I wanted to jump. I can hear the thunder of the falls in my ears and feel the thump of adrenaline in my blood, even now. I can still feel the frigid shock of that spring-fed water.

I'm learning, more and more with this book preparation-and-publication process, that it's necessary to go for it. To step out over the dark and the wide, even when it's scary. You never know what might happen.

Granted, when you jump off a waterfall, you're taking your life into your own hands. I don't necessarily recommend it, especially for the faint of heart. (And if my daughter ever comes across this post in her teen years I plan to deny, deny, deny.) But when you're a first-time author reaching out to your favorite published authors, seeking their approval and help, what's the worst that could happen? They say no. Or they don't answer at all.

It's still worth the plunge. Trust me.

A Few of My Favorite Things...

Today, I'm taking a cue from Oprah and blogger "The Pioneer Woman" and sharing a list of the things I like. I love lists. I make them weekly, sometimes daily. They're usually brilliant and exciting, and look like this:

1. Write
2. Exercise
3. Wash clothes
4. Call Mom, Sister, Friend(s)
5. Take diapers to Daughter's preschool
6. Read for grad school
7. Grade papers
8. Drop off water bill

Wow. This is my life. I'm momentarily stunned. 

Moving on. Usually, about three of these get accomplished. Yes, I know it's sad that I have to add calling my mother, sister, and assorted friends (on the real list I give them names). You'd think a grown-up woman could do this without reminders. But for me, it's necessary. I have a hate-hate relationship with the phone. It hates me back because I accidently leave it in my car for days and it dies. And then my father calls my husband to make sure I'm still alive.

So (and I may make this a new Wednesday blog habit) here's my list:

10 Things That Make Me Happy (Man, I'm a titling wordsmith)

1. Pisgah National Forest in North Carolina -- I hike here several times a week, usually just me and my dog. The creek gurgles over moss-covered rocks, the winter light carves out far-off ridgelines in stark relief, and my dog does belly flops in the mud, then shakes on me. It's. Awesome.

2. My friend Liddell -- she came to visit yesterday, and we hiked and talked and then ate burritos and talked some more. Liddell is utterly authentic, pretty much automatic fun, and lives the sort of adventurous and wide-open life most people dream of but never follow through on.

3. DVR -- we just had the DISH guy come out to fix a problem on Sunday, and Lo, we have DVR! Oh, heaven sent. Oh, joy! So THIS is what the fuss is all about.

4. Parenthood, the TV show -- While we're on the subject of DVR, it sure is great for recording those 10 p.m. shows I've been trying to catch online the next day, because I'm usually writing or doing schoolwork or pooped out in bed at 10 p.m. "Parenthood" on NBC is one of them: charactered by some of my favorite actors (Craig T. Nelson, Lauren Graham, Peter Kraus) and produced by Ron Howard, the writing is some of the best I've seen on television. That writing combined with pitch-perfect performances makes the show pure, lovely and true. And in the world of the Desperate Housewives of [Insert city name here], it's hopeful.

5. Thin Mints -- God Bless the Girl Scouts of America! A sleeve of Thin Mints in my freezer means that all is right with the world. Recently I ordered 6 boxes from my former boss's daughter. I have to literally drive up a mountain to get them, but I don't care. I wonder if they're in yet? I hope she didn't forget me. Maybe I should call.

6. My Shorter Oxford English Dictionary -- My parents gave these two beautiful, wonderful tombs for Christmas a couple of years ago. Yes, I asked for them. I love them. They tell me things like the fact that "satin" is an Old French word, originally Arab; that it pertains to the town of Zaytun. So cool. I'm immediately picturing eighteenth-century, high-waisted gowns, pale blue. And where is Zaytun? It's a fabulous mystery.

7. Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs -- They come out once a year, and they are just so daggum good. The perfect ratio of chocolate to peanut butter. So what if they're the same amount of points as a whole Weight Watcher's meal, they're worth it.



8. Manners -- Manners are underrated. Thank heavens I live in a place where people still use "ma'am," "sir," "excuse me," "please," and "thank you"... and mean it. It's civilized. It's nice. It separates us from the base and ordinary. (I swear I'm in my 30s, not my 80s. Still.)

9. Budding, but still winter-bare trees -- Right now I'm looking out the window beside my desk, and the still-gray hardwood in my front yard is budding, lace-like, into the lilac sky. In the mornings, as the sun rises, these trees emerge first from the dark, so friendly with the light behind them. They're a touchstone.

10. Coastal Living magazine -- My parents have given us a subscription for the past few years, and each issue--especially in winter--is a burst of color and warmth. The photos are spectacular, the writing tight, when I read it I still believe that I'll one day have a beach house.



Happy Wednesday, everyone.