The leaves are starting to fall. Not in droves, just a few fluttering down to earth like yellow and gold ballerinas, stark when they land against the still green grass of summer. There’s the smell of earth and chill in the air, the bees drone longer but quieter, and echoes of autumns gone by make me wonder.
Not too long ago, when I was a young empty-nester, thinking about what my newest career might be, a friend asked, “What is it that you liked to do as a child?”
I thought about that. What did I like to do? Run fast, climb trees, read stories, gorge myself with the fruit of the mulberry tree, play house…
…playing house…I really liked that. My sister Dawn and I, invented a game called Mary and Susan, nurturing our dolls as our imaginary husbands fought in the Vietnam war. Sometimes we made table tents. Mostly on rainy days, draping blankets and sheets over the kitchen table and scuttling into a tunnel entry made from a chain of chairs. We dreamed of making a secret clubhouse in the woods, but Mom wouldn’t let us walk that far through the fields on our own. Her solution was brilliant. “Why not clean out the chicken coop and play house in there?” And we did, chasing the hens from their home, cleaning and sweeping, and finally fashioning beds for our babes in the nesting boxes.
One autumn, when the three maples in front of our home were shedding their brilliant leaves, we kids were once again duped by Mom. “Rake them into the tallest pile you can and then jump into it. And we did—for hours, until I thought, why not rake the leaves into floorplans? I didn’t know the word “floorplan,” yet, but working industriously, I raked the leaves into adjoining squares, creating a decent-sized living room, a kitchen, three bedrooms, (So each of us could have our very own room—a luxury.), and a bathroom. The dolls were fed, diapered, and put down for a nap. Even our brother joined us for tea. Eventually, we were called to dinner and a blissful, autumnal day of youth ended.
It may very well have been that same evening that The Wizard of Oz aired on TV. We’d watched it before, but we had just afforded a second-hand color television. The brilliance of Oz in Technicolor captivated us, along with those munchkins and monkeys, and the clicking of ruby slippers that, along with the love in Dorothy’s yearning heart, sent her home.
Home. I guess my vocation is simple, to continue making a home, a sanctuary, a place of beauty, and then gather within those walls, the ones I love.
As the season changes and there are more kite-worthy days, I think many of us experience that primal urge to hibernate in our dens, to sit around the fire and warm our hands and hearts with togetherness, as humans have done for millennia. Yes, soon it will be time to turn our backs against the north wind, snuggle deep beneath the blankets and listen to the howl, falling into a sweet sleep where we dream about childhood homes made of leaves.
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Thunderous applause and a few tears greet your piece, Heide. I see how you take the best of your youth and weave those times into a sturdy cloth, or a water-color painting
and this cloth will have a permanence, and the painting warms with colors bright and lasting, not just for you but for your readers. Thank you.
Thank you, Susan, for YOUR beautiful words. My youth was at the very least …colorful. XO to you.
Beautiful, beautiful words, dear Heide.
I followed them, one by one, like a rosary.
Dear Diana, Thank you. I really want to know that I think of you so often. I feel connected, even though I am not connected. It’s one really nice, positive thing about social media and another good thing about soul connection. Sending tons of love and light your way…and good autumnal memories. Heide
I love that you do. So do I.
Soul to soul, sister.
Dearest Heide,
So beautiful and beautifully written. I didn’t want the story to end. I wanted to stay with young Heide and experience her brilliance.
Thank you.
Hi Trudie. Young Heide always wants to play dolls in the chicken coop or under the leaves with young Trudie. I will see you in December/January and give you a big hug.
Beautiful Heidi. Making our homes our sanctuary’s. I’m with you in my new climate!❤️
Yes, there’s something good about really seeing and feeling the seasons. I am happy for you and all your adventures.
No words. Just sincere deep appreciation for everything you said here,
That is so sweet. Cannot wait to see you. I am assuming recuperation is going well.
Oh Heidi…as always I glide and float along your words that give us a glimpse of Heidi’s world. The imagery and sweet, heart-warming memories touch me. Close to home are the many rooms you created with leaves. For my brother, sister, and I floor plans were made my freshly cut grass thrown off by the lawnmower we had just taken turns using. In addition to walls, we made chairs, doors, beds, kitchen appliances, etc. Such fun were our mansions that smelled of the organic. Thank you for sharing this delight!
It is wonderful to learn of someone else who did this. Homes made of grass. I can see it and smell it. Glad to share common and wonderful memories.
We are so much alike, dear cousin!!
But you express yourself so much better than I do!
I think you express yourself beautifully in a multitude of ways…music, art, writing, cookery, love and the list goes on
As if I wasn’t already itching for the temps to cool down, the leaves to change their colors and the skies to get a little grayer. Now I want nothing more than to curl up with a good book by the fireplace. How I love reading your writing. Thank you for sharing your craft with us as always!
Happy fireside…coming soon to you!