We are into my favorite season!

As we come to the last week of October, I am reminded that I have favorite times of the year. Of course each season has it’s unique attractions and opportunities, but the autumn is my favorite. It may be that I am partial to the fall season because at 70 some years old, I have entered the autumn of my life. Sometimes we wish to be “spring chickens” again, or to relive the “springtime” of our lives.

Oh to be young again, we say! Or sometimes we miss the summertime of life, when we are at our working prime, raising our children, working at advancing our careers, and enjoying and surviving the heat of the day and the challenges and stresses of that phase of life. Sometimes we old men with white hair get to longing to look 40 again, and we look for a tonic to restore the hair color, or perhaps the hair, of our heads. Few of us really look forward the the winter of life, when our bodies won’t do our mind’s bidding anymore, and we grow less able to bear the cold and to take care of ourselves without help. So, I want to enjoy the autumn of life while it is “in season.”

We have been watching the leaves on the trees in and around Pea Ridge, and we begin to see shades of yellow and purple andred and rust colors in the bushes and in the woods.

Our little maple tree in the front lawn is still green, and it probably will only turn yellow. But I see other trees about, including on the lawn where we used to live on Patton Street, which are turning a variety of rich colors. I especially notice the fiery red of the sumac along the roads, and the color varieties in the persimmon bushes and sassafras bushes. Interestingly, some of the fl owers are still colorful, even after the frost, such as the yellow flowers along Carr Street in town. I don’t know what to call them, but I enjoy driving by and seeing them. To me, the fall of the year is a special time to appreciate the Creator’s artistry. Of course, winter’s snow and ice can be beautiful, too.

Spring’s new greenery can be a reminder of the refreshment and rejuvenation of life. And summer’s heat can supply its own exasperating variety. But, to me, no other season matches the fall for scenery. Maybe in another week or so we can get some friends in the van and go on a Fall Colors Tour of the Ozarks.

Maybe now I can lay by my lawn, and put my mower away. I thought we were about ready to lay by the mowing back in August, but then the late summer rains came in and the grass came back. Now, in October, some of my grass has been dormant for a while, and only a few things sprout up unevenly. I’m wondering now when my dandelions finally go dormant? My dandelions just keep poking up their little blond heads, and I keep asking them to give me a break!

This morning we went out to the back fence to check on our tomato crop.

Apparently last night we had a genuine killing frost.

Our tomato vines, still sporting little green tomatoes, are done. Yesterday, my wife, anticipating the frost, went out and picked many of the remaining green tomatoes, so we’ll either let them ripen indoors or maybe make fried green tomatoes of them. This has really been a great tomato year. Early on I bought eight plants from the Pea Ridge Farmer’s Market, and we have had more tomatoes than we could keep up with. I recall that last year, I had vines aplenty, but not one ripe tomato. The two little tomatoes that fi nally set on were killed by the first frost. What a di◊erence this year!

Back in the 1940s, as fall approached we would have been laying by the corn crop. For anyone who may not remember, “laying by the corn crop” meant leaving o◊cultivating the corn, and just allowing the crop to grow out and the ears of corn to mature and harden. Today, with the widespread use of herbicides, we don’t often hear the old expression “laying by the corn.” We don’t see nearly as many corn fi elds on the farms of northwest Arkansas these days, and not many fields of oats. I note that J.C. Beaver has acres and acres of corn, but he apparently harvests it as green chop and silage. In the years gone by, autumn meant that we would soon be picking ear corn, probably by hand, and storing it in the corn crib in the barn. Later we would shuck it, and possibly shell it, all by hand, to feed the old hens, or we would grind it to mix with other goodies to feed the cows. Fall is still a golden, satisfying season.

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Editor’s note: Jerry Nichols, a native of Pea Ridge, is an award-winning columnist, a retired Methodist minister with a passion for history. He is vice president of the Pea Ridge Historical Society. He can be contacted by e-mail at [email protected], or call 621-1621.