The nor’easter has moved away. We will get more rain today keeping the flood warning active, but the wind is gone. The day is still and warm. It is 68°. My yard and deck are covered in debris, small branches and so many leaves I went looking for naked oak trees.

I remember my father always wore a sort of cranberry colored jacket when he did his Saturday yard work. This time of year he’d mow for the last time and use a bamboo rake to clear the yard. He always mowed in the same pattern and raked almost in a circle around him. The rake made a scratching noise while the mower clicked. He’d rake the leaves and sticks down the small grassy hill in the front of our house to the gutter. He’d pile everything and set it on fire. He’d lean on the rake beside the fire to watch it. That is the image in my memory drawers. I’ve probably mentioned too many times that the smell of burning leaves is one of my favorite smells. I’d stand close to the smoke, and it would permeate my clothes. Even a few days later I could smell that smoke.

When I was a kid, we always bought pumpkins to carve. I loved pulling out the guts. I’d grab handfuls and hold them up and threaten to throw them. My mother watched. That was enough to keep it a threat. I think my pumpkin looked the same every year when I was finished. I remember trying to carve teeth and failing miserably. My knife skills were still raw and undeveloped. My pumpkin had the usual pumpkin grin, eyes and nose. We’d put in a candle in each pumpkin and put the pumpkins on the front step. We’d light the candles every night. I remember going outside to look at the pumpkins. The candles flicked. My pumpkin was beautiful, even with a toothless grin.

I used to eat candy corn. I liked the kind with a sort of gold color in the middle and a brown color at the end. That the corn was so sweet was the best part. I’d grab a handful and throw a few pieces into my mouth. The idea of eating them now makes my teeth rot with just the thoughts of it. I do buy bags of candy corn now but use them for decoration then toss them.

This week I have my usual uke practice and lesson. I also have two concerts. It is grocery shopping week, and I have a list.

The nor’easter is almost done. It is not raining now, and the wind has become a breeze. The sun has returned, and it is warm at 67°. Mother Nature has had her fun. We’re left with light rain and maybe a drizzle; however, the flood warnings do continue for tonight and tomorrow. The waves today could get as high as 17 feet. The wind tomorrow will only be 5 miles MPH, probably having worn itself out from all that blowing. It feels a bit like the end of a sci-fi movie about nature having decimated much of the Earth. The survivors have come out of hiding to find a ruined world, but the sun will shine again. My neighbors are on their deck. They are Jamaican. I can hear singing and conversing in Patois. She’ll cook later, and with the deck doors open I’ll be tantalized by the aroma of her food cooking. I can hear birds. The dogs are out despite this being their morning nap time.

When I was a kid, this was just about my favorite time of year. I loved the mornings. I loved walking to school and watching the leaves change color. The afternoons were still warm enough for playing outside. Halloween, a highlight of the season, was on the horizon. I remember lamenting, though I didn’t realize that was what I was doing, that the afternoons were getting shorter and shorter. It seemed as if we were outside for only a minute before the street lights came on, and every mother yelled out the door at what seemed like the same time. All of a sudden the yards and streets were empty.

The only person I knew who had been to Europe was my father, compliments of the navy during World War II. During one of our trips to Europe we went looking for places he had been. He didn’t remember much. He was only 17 when he went into the navy. He remembered Plymouth, England the most as he had been hospitalized there for quite a while after his ship had been sunk. On another trip, the one where my sister had joined us, we followed the World War II trail through Belgium and stayed in Bastogne. He was thrilled. He kept up a running commentary. Every time we passed Malmedy he spoke about the massacre. He wanted a picture of tank traps we coud see in the woods so I got sent. Little did we know how muddy it was. I got stuck in the mud, and when I pulled out my feet, my shoes stayed. I carried them to the car.

I vacuumed upstairs as soon as I woke up. I was tired of the dust balls in my bedroom, the bathroom and the hall. After I had vacuumed the hall rug, I was surprised to see it was plaid. I have a couple of chores more, but because of my leg, I can’t haul bags and filled litter boxes to the car for the dump. That stays on my to do list until at least Thursday. I can see a lazy late afternoon on my list.