Farewell to fall

*Wrote this post last week, pre-snow and post-party. Kept meaning to make a Picasa mosaic of some of the photos, but haven't got around to it yet. Figured I'd post up now before the party becomes too distant a memory. In the meantime, a group pic of just some of the kids in attendance that day.

Woke to a wickedly frosty October morning. The skies are grey, the trees are bare and an icy sheen has coated all of the brown grass on the front lawn. The chill in the air has made me crank up the furnace, yank out some stretched-out slippers from the old pile by my dresser, and think about turning the closet inside out in search of warm winter gear. I know I have a snowsuit that should fit Avie stashed somewhere deep within....

In spite of the sparkling frost, the pumpkins still sit defiantly orange atop the haybales, surrounded by buckets and barrels of apples and gourds, all of them demanding autumn attention. And, they'll get it. Right up until the end of the month.

I fall in love with this season every year, but the affair is fleeting. As soon as the greys start to settle in, I yearn for the white blankets of snow, the glow of Christmas lights (the big, energy-consuming old school bulbs from the 1980s, not the weird LED lights that we all now own), the sentimental crooning of Bing Crosby and the scents of gingerbread and pine boughs. You're probably thinking ''same shit, different pile'' when you compare those tawdry words to others I've previously posted. And, you'd be right.

I have an intense romantic fling with each season--and it's a cycle that never seems to end. We flirt, we dance, we dream up all kinds of moments to sneak away and be together. And, when we've finally celebrated the season, consummated our love for the holiday--when the big climactic moment that we've been planning for so long starts to fall away, leaving us either gasping excitedly for air or spooning in satisfying post-coital cuddles--then I'm done with the relationship.

For me, it turns into a ''it's not you, it's me'' kind of thing. The season, a little blindsided by the abrupt declaration, agrees. And as we say our final farewells, we both tell one another that the break-up is mutual, that we'll remain friends, that'll we call one another for coffee sometime. I don't know about the season, but me? I'm ready to move onto the next big romance.

And that's what happened this weekend. After months of planning, we finally hosted the Fall Family Photo Fete, our big harvest thank-you to family and friends.

And somehow, all the details came together. The sun shone, the wind eventually died down, the people came, they downed soup and chili and popcorn and homemade sugar cones, they drank hot apple cider and chilled beer, the kids jumped on the trampoline and threw leaves at one another.

Sure, I completely forgot to play all of the games I had planned (like pumpkin bowling and apple bobbing) or ink up the kids with the pumpkin tattoos I had painstakingly cut out the night before. And, I forgot to mention to some guests to take caramel apples and the kids' goodie bags as they left. I even forgot to gather together the girls for a family photo on the haybales. I also tried to chat a little bit with everyone and in the end, felt like I really spoke to no one. And, of course, we had WAY too much food left over (I told Hubby to stop peeling potatoes and making soups!) and yet I don't remember eating anything. (I guess we'll be eating chili for lunch for the next month. Not such a bad thing, in retrospect.)

In spite of all of this, the party seemed to go off without a hitch. I only had a moment to take it all in, to look around and marvel at being surrounded by such love, by such laughter and joy, by such beauty--and I may have missed it completely if it hadn't been for someone else.

My sister shook me out of my 'party hostess' state-of-mind and reminded me why we were having this party in the first place. As I mixed salad dressings in the kitchen, she told me that she had walked up to Brooke and given her a hug and had explained to my little munchkin that the reason everyone was here was because they loved her so much. That they all came because they wanted her to get healthy and wanted to celebrate her. She said Brooke's eyes went round and big and said ''Really? Everyone's here for me?'' Of course they were. Of course. I myself was as stunned by the turnout and the implication.

After that story, I immediately went outside and watched over the deck railing as my girl jumped like a fiend with a dozen other toddlers on the trampoline, their shrieks of joy piercing through the chatter and 'surprisingly decent' (as my brother called it) music in the air. I then looked over at Avie, bundled up against the chill, in Grandmaman's arms. She was smiling a gummy smile as she people-watched, causing all of the aunts to coo over her adorable little face. I am blessed. We all are.

Hubby's moment came the following day as we stacked chairs and folded tents. He had to take a quiet moment to himself. He sat on a haybale, drank a beer and smoked a cigar, while he just pondered about how special our little girl is. About how much everyone must love her to have come and celebrated her with us.

As evidenced by the laughter and smiles, it seems like our guests had fun and I hope so, because I know that we did. It's been a few days now, and still Brooke is talking about how great 'her party' was.

Even though Hubby and I had agreed pre-party against making a formal speech, I kind of wish we had taken the opportunity to thank the whole group for all that they had done this summer and continue to do. I hope every one of our guests knows that this party was not just for Brooke--but for them. It was our way of thanking each of them for the prayers, the good wishes, and the kind gestures they made us throughout Brooke's cancer treatment. We appreciate everything you guys did for us! We love all of you! Thanks so much! (I'm sure that sentiment goes without saying, but I still feel it needs to be said.)

Sure, B's treatments aren't over yet, but the end is in sight. We can see the flags and banners of the finish line in the distance--and with all of these people behind us and beside us, their love and friendship pushing us ever forward, our little family will get there.

As quickly as the party came, it was over. And, after a little decompressing to settle my mind, I was left satisfied. I'm ready for the next great big thing. I'm ready for Christmas, for winter, for ringing in the New Year with her last chemo treatment behind us and only good health and good spirits for 2011.

I'll wait the two more weeks before putting away the pumpkins and turning on Diana Krall, but know that, from across the room, I'll be winking suggestively at the next season.