Today is a fall day, partly cloudy and in the mid 50’s, sweater weather for sure. The once bright red leaves on the branch outside my window have started to turn brown, and their edges are folded inward. Some have already fallen. I can see the coming winter as I watch the changes in the leaves.

When I was a kid, I layered for walks to school on chilly mornings like today’s. Winter coats were too heavy and just a jacket wasn’t enough. I’d wear my thickest sweater with my jacket. At school, I’d take the sweater off and leave it in the cloak room. It was too hot for inside.

In school, our day was regimented by bells, hand held bells. Someone would stand by the railing on the highest floor and ring the bell into the air over the railing so all the floors could hear. Each classroom had clocks, the usual sort of school clocks, but the bells ruled the day. The only time I clock watched was to keep an eye on how close we were getting to the end of the school day.

We had recess after lunch unless it rained. During recess, the boys stayed on one side of the school yard, the girls on the other. When we were younger, the boys ran around chasing each other and screaming. The girls jump roped or played hopscotch. When we were older, the boys played basketball, and the girls stood in groups talking, a lot of times about the boys.

When I was growing up, most of the vegetables came from cans. Summer corn and home grown tomatoes were the few exceptions. We didn’t eat anything exotic. We had potatoes just about every night. We had peas, green and yellow wax beans and French green beans, the only beans I’d eat, kernel and cream corn and hidden carrots mashed with the potatoes. I never minded eating veggies except for baked beans. I always thought they were gross looking, mushy and brown.

We had apples, oranges, bananas, tangerines at Thanksgiving and strawberry shortcake in the summer. We also liked pears, but my mother didn’t buy them often. We did eat some off the tree behind a neighbor’s fence. They were always hard.

It wasn’t until Ghana that I tried strange fruits and vegetables. I recognized tomatoes and onions but that was about all. I ate okra, plantain, garden eggs, mango, pawpaw, tuber yam, cassava, fresh coconut and fresh pineapple. My taste buds came alive. I became a bit audacious. I tried everything. I liked just about all of it. I didn’t like cassava.

The morning is lovely, a bit chilly though, only 48°. We have sun, but partly cloudy is the forecast. I checked the bird feeders this morning through the window and noticed the traffic is heavy. I filled all the feeders yesterday so the word is out.

The dogs are festive. They are each wearing their Halloween collars. Nala’s has witches, mummies, Mrs. Frankenstein, bats, webs and skeletons, a perfect choice for her. Henry’s has cats, smiling pumpkins and ghosts and witches. His ghosts look like Casper. His collar creatures are much friendlier than Nala’s.

When I was a kid, choosing a Halloween costume was never easy. The planning took weeks. I’d pick one, discard it, pick another, discard it and then keep looking. Some kids bought costumes from Woolworth’s. They were usually one piece worn over clothes and tied in the back on the top. The fronts were characters like skeletons, witches, cowboys, clowns or the devil. The masks were plastic with such small eye holes it made them difficult to look through, and they were hot. We always wore homemade costumes. My mother was a costume designer. Many kids did. A ghost was the easiest, a sheet and two eye holes. Some girls wore old dresses and hats their mothers used to wear. Cowboys were big as were hoboes who always carried a stick with a tied neckerchief at the end. They had dirty faces rubbed on from a burnt cork. My sister, who took dance lessons, wore her tutu one year. The only bought thing was a new mask every year. It looked like the sort the Lone Ranger wore except it was colorful.

My mother had a set of Pyrex bowls and a set of tulip bowls. The sizes nested. We’d use one of the bowls to hold our candy. I’d carry the bowl with me, but at night I’d keep the bowl under my bed for quick access. Years ago, I was shopping at an antique mall sort of shop. I watched a woman put out a set of those tulip bowls for sale. I bought them right away. Those bowls carry with them strong memories.