The day is pretty. The sun has poked through the earlier morning clouds. The sky is blue and the sky is cloudy. The wind is now and then. It is in the 40’s. My front lawn, deck and driveway are hidden by the fallen leaves. More browned leaves still hang from oak tree branches waiting for the wind. The days darken early. The nights are cold. Fall is moving on.

When I was a kid during this time of year, I hated that the afternoons were getting shorter and colder. Darkness came early and triggered the streetlights. My mother didn’t care about the time, only the streetlights. We were well trained so right away we’d go inside. We’d watch TV while my mother made supper. We always ate at the kitchen table. My mother filled our plates and handed them to us. She also cut the meat. We were young.

My mother bought Welch’s grape jelly. It came in a glass with cartoon characters on it. I sometimes put it on crackers but mostly used it for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I remember the bread in the middle of the sandwiches sometimes sank in and turned blue from the jelly. The counter got sticky if any jelly fell off the knife. If I didn’t clean it, I’d hear it from my mother. My father always loved strawberry jam so my mother bought it for him. He loved his snacks, butter or jam on crackers. Royal Lunch Milk Crackers were his favorites, and he was devastated when they were no longer made. He then switched to Saltines.

I don’t remember when I stopped eating grape jelly and switched to jam. I think of it as the first step into adulthood, the laying aside of childish things. It was a tiny step albeit but a step nonetheless. Right now my favorite is Mission Fig Jam. I just finished my last jar yesterday. Life can be cruel.

Yesterday was a busy day. I am not a lover of busy days. I guess it is the sloth in me. Yesterday was also cold, wintry cold. I was out twice for my uke, a morning lesson and an afternoon concert. We are still in the bluegrass book. We start Christmas practice next week. My big chore for today is organizing all my Christmas songs.

I have a few records from my childhood. They are yellow and red and include Frosty and Rudolph. I used to sit in my room, play my records and sing along. We learned Christmas carols, the religious ones, in school. We used the John Hancock book of Christmas carols. The books were small and the covers had a winter scene including a church with giant stain glass windows and a night sky covered with stars. I still have one. I put it out every Christmas.

I have many vinyl Christmas albums. Some of them were give-a-ways. A couple are from Firestone Tires, a shop that used to be on Main Street. The music is familiar, but the singers aren’t always.

Sometimes I am surprised at how old I am. I notice most when I try to do things I used to do easily. I am also taken aback at how wrinkled I am. My face has tracts of wrinkles. My arms have wrinkles that look like they could use a bit of ironing.

My mother used to trick us. I believed everything she told us. I remember she told us our tongues turned black if we lied. She also told us only mothers could see the liar’s black tongue. Little did we realize the liar gave himself away. She’d ask a question then she’d ask us to stick out our tongues. The liar always covered his mouth. We were surprised she caught the liar every time. I don’t remember how old I was when I realized how crafty my mother was.

One of my favorite snacks was Saltines covered with butter. Sometimes I’d dip them into soup. An oil slick would appear at the top of the bowl. It wasn’t colorful as the ones at gas stations were. It was really a butter slick. Every now and then I still buy Saltines, and I still slather them with butter.

Today I will vacuum downstairs and water the plants. That’s enough.