Fall.

The first day of autumn arrives on Monday.  While I happily welcome the first day of spring which heralds the beginning of a new growing season and the end of a long winter, the arrival of the first fall day brings a much more melancholy feeling.  It is hard to believe six months of planting, nurturing and harvesting crops is cycling to a grand finale.  The last cuttings of hay are being raked and baled.  The early corn is being chopped and ensiled, and the remaining stalks that are drying in the fields are turning a golden brown as their ears droop under the weight of plump grain.

My thoughts begin shifting from drought and high temperatures to impending months of snow and frigid days and nights.  The only thing between summer and winter is three months of crisp autumn days filled with brilliant fall colors on tree-covered hillsides.  Their leaves of orange, yellow, red and brown hues drift slowly down to earth to blanket the ground, waiting until they are hidden beneath drifts of white snow.

Cold.  The temperatures are already falling and sweatshirts are comfortable additions to my morning and evening attire.  Gone are the hot humid days that brought sweat to brow all summer long.  I reluctantly slip my bare feet out of flip-flop sandals and into confining socks and shoes.  Claustrophobia.  My toes rebel against the confinement that blisters and pinches them within the leather walls.  They are suddenly hidden from the warm sun that baked them to a golden brown while walking and working in the field.  The V-mark that contrasts my tanned and un-tanned foot tops will eventually blend into faded brown as the calendar pages flip to October, November, December and the new year.  My feet will hibernate inside socks, slippers and boots for another six months until freed again by warmer weather.

While I have never been tough enough to go totally shoeless like some brave soles who can walk on stones and never wince, I spend most of the summer in sandals.  Even when farm work takes me into the barnyard, I prefer flip flops to boots.  Cow flops and hooves are hazards to avoid when wearing only sandals.  Unless we are doing intense cattle work, I ignore the potential podiatric danger and opt for cool comfort instead.  Like they warn children on television, this blog will also warn “Caution, don’t try this at home without parental supervision.”  But, in reality, the farm is the best place for children to run barefoot or practically shoeless for those whose soles aren’t quite tough enough.

I savor the cool breezes that drift through the farm house windows.  I will put off lowering them, and eventually closing them, to keep the temperatures inside a tolerable 60 degrees.  Without the fresh air, my house seems less friendly, too stuffy.  My family shivers until I relent and build a fire in the fireplace insert to take the chill away.  I seal up the storm windows and bunker down for the frosty days and nights that paint the glass with ice crystals that glitter and melt in the morning sun.

For me, this cycle of lengthening and shortening days has happened for more than a half century.  By now, it should be easier to adjust my psyche to the seasonal changes.  The one thing that helps is having a few fall-calving cows that remind me that life’s cycle promises joys, no matter what time of year we are celebrating.  I remind myself to appreciate the harvest season, the blessings of another crop year, and the opportunity to give my feet a rest as we fall into winter when I warm my toes near the fire and plan for another year of farming.

Lancaster Farming’s guidelines for posting comments on the website ask that you follow the Golden Rule, respecting other opinions and being truthful and civil.  Do not post any statements that are illegal, defamatory, obscene, threatening, or plagiarized.