Before the leaves turn or the grain ripens, fall settles in more subtly; the piercing clarity of the summer sun softens slowly to gold, painting everything it touches in such warm, glowing shades that your heart will burn and you'll lift your face to the sky to be painted gold, too.
All the while other things will be absorbing the light until you look around to see the whole world ablaze with possibility. At least that's how it is for me.
Some look to spring for rebirth, but I see it happening now -- partly because I'll always associate fall with fresh notebooks and new pencils with erasers yet unmarred. And there's the way farmers like my dad assess, reassess and plan for next harvest even while bringing in this year's crop. But mainly it just seems a little easier to breathe and dream, to shake off the lethargy -- and restlessness -- of summer and settle in for something new, whatever that may be.
My alma mater had some sort of off-the-books-rule that forbade freshmen from dating their first two weeks, or month, or semester (?) of school. The first several weeks of school were generally very camp-like with strangers thrown together away from home with an itinerary (orientation, then classes and mixer activities) and enthusiastic, if not occasionally overzealous, counselors (resident directors) to direct; the theory, I suppose, was that it was best to avoid the brief-yet-intense romances such a setting could inspire.
Oh but fall in Orange City, which happens to be on the Monarchs' migration path, could be magic, with many a young couple breaking the rule to fall in love over long walks, stargazing and coffee (the three primary dating activities the town had to offer those without reliable transportation). And while I, along with the rest of campus, followed the progress of these romances with skepticism, when I fell in love with Justin it was in the fall, over coffee, long walks and letters, and Linda Hasselstrom.
So there's that.
But I also remember falling asleep in the combine riding with my dad after school; the day may have been biting cold, but the cab was warm and the sound of corn raining into the hopper, soothing -- and my little belly was always filled to capacity with one of the meals my mom and aunt brought out to the field for their crew. How to describe that feeling -- Safety? Comfort? Contentment? In any case, for that little girl sleeping on her daddy's shoulder as he combined corn, everything was right in the world; there were only possibilities, not problems.
So there's that, too.
As I sit here writing now, I'm warm on the couch with J; not everything's right in the world and I'm mourning winter's eminent arrival, but there is an apple crisp cooling on the counter (thanks for the apples, mom) and the day was so beautiful and bright we could walk to the lake without coats even though last week it snowed. Nothing gold can stay, it's true, but there are possibilities, still.
And if you, like me, need reminding on occasion, try these (because even once winter's come, we'll still have Libby's and apples):
Pure Gold Pumpkin Bread
1 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/3 cup buttermilk
1/2 tsp vanilla
4 Tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup sugar
1 egg plus 1 egg white, at room temperature
1 cup pumpkin puree (I used Libby's)
1/2 cup golden raisins, if desired
Nuts, if desired
Candied ginger, if desired
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. (My new oven bakes 100 degrees too hot, which I discovered thanks to the 4-dollar oven thermometer from Target.)
Whisk together dry ingredients. In another bowl, beat butter until creamy, add sugar and beat until lightened in color and texture, then beat in the eggs. (I did this all by hand, having failed to pack the hand mixer for the move to Minnesota; it worked just fine.) Add pumpkin puree and vanilla and stir until just blended. Add pumpkin purée, and beat until just blended. Add the flour mixture alternately with the milk, stirring until just combined. Fold in raisins and nuts, if desired.
I made this in mini loaf pans, but you could use a large loaf pan or muffin tins -- either way, make sure your pans are greased. I topped the loaves with candied ginger and if I'd had more on hand, I would have folded some in with the raisins. It's really good.
Bake until done -- about an hour for a large loaf, or 20-25 minutes for mini loafs and 15-20 for muffins.
Betty Crocker's Apple Pie
(with butter)
You can find the main recipe for Betty's apple pie here; however, I don't make a two-crust pie -- I go the crumb-topping route because that's what I prefer. Also, I use butter instead of shortening. I'm not enough of a pie crust expert to have decided opinions other than that. I do have a few basic tips, though.
1) Make sure the water is ice cold.
2) Do not overmix -- it's okay if there are butter smears in the dough, as pictured below; the less you handle the dough, the more tender it will be.
So that's all I've got on pie crust, but this article from the New York Times can tell you more; there are other opinions, of course, but this is definitely a good read.
If you want to use the crumb topping, all you have to do is cut a 1/2 cup butter into a 1/2 cup of brown sugar (packed) mixed with 1 cup of flour; that will take care of a 9-inch pie; you can adjust the amounts up or down slightly, depending on what you need.
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