I Can't Find My Pumpkins

As most of you know, we're in the midst of month 9 after making a mind-blowing move to the warmer climes of southern Cal. As hard as it is to recover from leaving behind all the people and a life we loved, I will say that the balmy air has acted as a salve to our sore hearts. It's a kindness to the eyes to look out our living room window at lilting palm fronds and blue sky. That part, along with having a few extra bathrooms, is good.

Seasons? What seasons? There's "sunny" and "less sunny". You might need an umbrella on the odd day out in February or March, and those whose blood is truly thin will fling a scarf around the neck of a trench coat, while their bare legs and bermuda shorts peek out from under (it would not be unusual to see the trench creatively punctuated by a pair of velcro-strappy Tevas or flip-floppy Reefs). Suffice it to say, anything with lining or thicker than 2mm is hanging in the way back of my closet, untouched. Ergo, imagine my surprise when Holly and I headed north and found ourselves surrounded by reddening leaves and tastefully placed pumpkin decor, in anticipation of the fall holidays. I wore my one pair of long pants into a fray, having stupidly forgotten that there are seasons elsewhere and generally, the month of September in the SF area brings along morning and evening chill, necessitating more than the coverage offered by cute bermudas. Brrr.

At the end of our trip, my sweet mother rang in the crisp fall by gifting all her daughters with absolutely charming ceramic pumpkins, nostalgic to me because they are crafted by a local artisan. I was looking forward to getting back to the new house, rooting out other things of that nature and nurturing a bit of holiday cheer. I spent the better part of this morning hunting EVERYWHERE for the other pumpkin she had given me some years ago. Understand that we had many generous-hearted hands helping us move in this place, and wonderfully, things are generally exactly where they should be. Except my pumpkin/Thanksgiving decor. Where is it? Do any of you recall unpacking a few ceramic pumpkins and goofy looking pilgrims? (They've always looked slightly cross-eyed to me, but then after a rolling Atlantic crossing via the leaky Mayflower sans Dramamine, wouldn't you be?) The only thing I can figure is that those things somehow ended in with the Christmas stuff as we were packing up, and those boxes didn't get unpacked.

Botheration. I eventually found my turkey gravy boat around 11:15, way back with the serving trays, but I don't need him just yet. I stood in the garage for a few moments, contemplating the inconvenience of one of the top shelves in there, which is where all the Christmas things are stacked.

"This is too much trouble," I decided. I'm getting lazy, because there was a day when not only would I have teetered atop a ladder to take the whole lot down (the ladder is upstairs in Heidi's 1/2 painted room right now), but I would have cheerfully relished re-organizing all the boxes to boot. Instead, I satisfied myself by retreating back into the safety of the house, leafing through a West Elm catalogue for some mild inspiration, pulling out a few orange candles for the coffee table and setting the lone pumpkin under the oil painting of our old home, which graces the space over our piano. The oil was painted while our house was up for sale in the late fall with plenty of color on the trees, so technically you could say it flaunts autumnal sensibilities. I wouldn't say we're rife with fall decor, but it's better than nothing, and since I'm back in my shorts and swaying palms are constantly in my periphery, it'll do for now.

Rest assured; for those of you visiting over the Christmas holidays in hopes of a generous smattering of festive decor, I'll certainly not be this lax. I know EXACTLY where THOSE boxes are........

Happy Fall