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I live in the Northern Hemisphere, State of Arkansas, United States of America, and today is the official first day of fall. Yesterday the temperature was 101 degrees (38.333 degrees to you). Temperatures like that don’t provide any indication that the annual leave-color-changing event is anywhere near peeking around the corner. It’s a bit cooler today. The forecast is for us to enjoy a sunny 87 Fahrenheit (30.556 Celsius). When my grandfather was alive, he would still have a way to go before switching to his long handles (full-body underwear). He would normally do that on the first of October. The temperatures we’ve been experiencing in recent years, even late into October, would cause him to adjust his underwear changing schedule. Heck, he would be downright confused. He didn’t depend on trained meteorologist to provide him a weather forecast. The Farmer’s Almanac and a good gander at the sky were enough. There wasn’t much talk of global warming during his time.

It’s common for me to think about grandpa and his time when the calendar announces change of seasons. He could look out at the horizon and tell if a rainstorm was coming. Was he accurate in his predictions? From what I can recall he was. Of course, I’m attempting to recall things as they were back in the 1950s. I do know that farming the tiny little piece of land he had with two mules, required him to have a good handle on what was happening with the weather. High tech farming was developing in the southern part of the United States back then, but it did affect grandpas’ operation.

Fall, which did seem to come much earlier meteorologically when I was grasshopper height, was a whimsical time for young ones like me. Living in a rural setting gave us experiences that my urban dwelling offspring can’t begin to imagine. I can recall following my grandpa around, in the fields, as he and his trusty mules harvested the crops. The clear, crisp fall skies served up comfortable air to frolic in, far different than the humid, oven-like fare that called for sitting under my grandparents weeping willow trees to escape the heat most of the day, during July and August. Working in the field to collect sweet potatoes, peanuts and other goodies was fun. It was fun because I didn’t do much work. Why else would I recall these times of old with such joy.

I recall a television commercial that used to run for Oldsmobile automobiles. It would compare the contemporary Oldsmobile to those of older times by saying, “This is not your father’s Oldsmobile.” Please allow to borrow that line for making a comparison to the fall season of today to that of a time way back during the last century by saying, “This ain’t your grandpa’s fall.’ Ain’t adds something to it don’t you think?

I’m old and bless…hope you will be too.