Changing Seasons

Last weekend was Labor Day.  The breeze carries a dusty autumn scent and I am wearing a light jacket on my walks. Although the trees are still green, I don't zig and zag across neighborhood streets to stay in their shade.  Instead I savor the warm sun on my back.  My son bought the "soup making trinity" of carrots, celery, and onions" and I purchased small tart apples at the Farmer's Market. Cooler days are coming.

Three day weekends are great for catching up on chores, reading, and spending time with family.  Early in the Labor Day weekend, I celebrated my sixtieth birthday. My family honored me with lunch and dessert at my daughter's home.  We went there so my grandson, almost a year old, could take his nap on schedule.  Earlier in the day, my daughter set her dining room table, a beautiful piece of furniture that belonged to my grandmother Helen, in sage green and lavender, one of my favorite color combinations.   She cut lavender from her yard.

Neither my sister or I could remember when Gram acquired the table and chairs but we both recalled many holidays and birthdays celebrated around Gram's table.  I remember carrying food to the table when I was a girl. My favorite meals were Sunday night suppers of lunch meat, white bakery bread, potato chips, and dip made of cream cheese and garlic salt.  Gram occasionally served a few carrot sticks as a nod to healthier eating. Many meals involved some version of 1950's jello. Later, my children's toddler birthdays were celebrated at the same table.

As my husband, daughter, sister, spouses, children, and I ate my birthday lunch, my grandson enjoyed cut up fruit and small pieces of meat and bread. He is the fifth generation to share meals at this table.  After lunch, the baby took a nap and we enjoyed a sinfully rich chocolate birthday cake baked by my sister. The men retired to watch the Nebraska football game while my sister and I knitted and visited with our daughters. I know my parents and grandparents would have loved the day.

I couldn't have asked for a better celebration. There was no black crepe paper or gag gifts to dump up in the landfill.  Instead my sister gave me a beautiful scarf she had knitted. My daughter and her husband gave me  a "Life is Good" t shirt which I will wear. I received a handmade card from my grandson. My husband brought me roses which I enjoyed. My son sent me a hand crafted yarn bowl for use with knitting projects.  At sixty, the season is changing but life is indeed good.