Fall memories

Well, it feels like rain. It must be rain. Tomorrow will probably be one of those days in which the phone won't ring, people won't come and I will probably find myself napping in my chair, instead of working. Oh well.

These are those days in Fall when you can enjoy the warmth of the hearth, literally or figuratively, at the end of the day, with a cup of hot tea and warm light and the nearness of your loved ones. Ah, the dying light of Autumn and the restful peace of a quiet evening at home.

I really enjoy driving in late November and early December in Georgia. The pastel light of early evening. The shadows of the leafless trees against the western sky. Driving of 441 toward Athens and Madison, then to Monticello and Jackson and on homeward to Griffin. Stopping on the road in Monticello to buy ice cream at the Dairy Queen. Taking comfort in those bright colorful lights glowing in the early darkness of evening. Sweetness, lapping up the creamy sweetness. Driving on as the light dies around you. I love it.

Friday night, high school football season is heading into the playoffs. You can see the lights and hear the roar as something unseen on the field prompts the fans to cheer in unison. It is a mixture of the fun of watching the boys play and a memory of being on that field yourself. Seeing the bugs flying through the lights. Feeling the adrenelin running through your veins, as the quarterback barks out the signals and you await the moment of motion. The dance of the players, the pull and tug. The dull pain in your head. Feeling your feet a few inches off the ground. Grabbing the quarterback in the backfield and flinging him to the ground.

That was my favorite moment on the field. One time against Cedar Grove, I stunted and rushed through the gap between the center and the guard, and followed the quarterback as he rolled away from me. I was a cat chasing its prey, unseen, lithe. I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around and as I pulled him down toward the green grass, he released the ball, flung it away out into the empty flat. As I walked back toward our huddle, I noticed the line judge throwing a flag. I knew what that meant: intentional grounding.

At the blowing of the electrical currents through my synapses, I realized the significance of the little yellow piece of cloth. I jumped upward into the air in a movement which was not very different from the joyful leaping of a silver salmon, jrising into the air, exhibiting pure joyfulness in the extreme.

Several days later, my future wife told me saw me jump for joy on the field. She really didn't know why, but it was the noticing that was the important part. Still is.

Anyway, Fall is a grand time. Cool weather. The dying leaves. Football under the lights on a Friday night. And Saturday afternoons in Virginia on Wilson field in Lexington. Cool comfort in the dying light.