As a kid growing up on our dairy farm, October was my favorite month. It was high harvest season. After-school hours and weekends were filled with hard physical labor that seemed more palatable when working in the cool, crisp fall days. I remember watching my father tour the farm buildings every year around Halloween. He would smile in satisfaction as he surveyed the barn stuffed to the rafters with baled hay, granary overflowing with oats and silos filled to the brim with corn silage. All of it would be needed to sustain our livestock and thus our lives through the long winter months.
Not surprisingly, I still love working outside in October. Though I now live in the Northwoods, each year I replicate those happy childhood experiences as I harvest the last of the produce from my garden. I love digging fat hairy carrots, gathering herbs for drying and picking apples from my small orchard.
With full freezers and food cupboards, I relish that special kind of satisfaction Dad must have felt. I do miss gathering hickory nuts though; there are no hickory trees in our woods. I miss the luxury of choosing the perfect jack-o-lantern from the family pumpkin patch, but I always find just the right one at Marvin’s Gardens here in Townsend.
Truth be told, I also like October because it’s my birthday month. This October, I will complete my 79th trip around the sun. As I reflect upon the many changes I’ve experienced over eight decades, I realize some aspects of living in the Northwoods are the same as mine growing up. The main difference, of course, is the landscape. Where you live greatly influences the way you live. Living on a farm or in the woods means living close to the land. Here at Otter Run, the lake has an outsize impact. Forest and water combine for stunningly beautiful scenery, especially sunrises and sunsets.
There is a rhythm to life here, but Mother Nature does not seem as happy as she used to be. Climate change has brought distressingly unfamiliar weather — derechos, ice storms, drought, lack of snow. Yet some things indicate she is still on guard. This autumn, she presented us with a very special palette of fall colors. It didn’t take much discernment to notice because some years peak color comes and goes so fast you hardly have time to appreciate it. This year, she decided to make the show a pageant I wish everyone could have seen.
The leaves started turning in mid-September, as usual. Then things plateaued, and colors didn’t reach their peak until the second week of October. The result was the longest and most picturesque one in our 25 years here. Many days featured cotton-ball-white cumulus clouds floating in an azure blue sky. A backdrop of granite and limestone rocks, sand and pines added browns and greens of every shade.
The red and orange hues of the majestic maple leaves were as lovely as ever, but it was the humble poplar trees that stole the show. With a golden display that lasted for weeks, the poplars were the most spectacular I have ever seen. Walking through the woods felt like traveling through a fairy forest washed with golden paint. Apparently envious, some maples even got in on the action.
It’s at times like these I wish I had the talent and tools to take high quality photos. My phone and iPad just don’t cut it and cannot capture what my eyes are seeing. As for putting brush to canvas, that’s not ever going to happen. I learned early on that artistic talent is missing in my personal palette of proficiency.
True story. I had to earn an art credit to graduate from Mount Mary College in Milwaukee. Now this meant taking an art class, something I had skillfully avoided at St. Mary High School in Menasha. All MMC freshmen were required to submit a pencil sketch of a favorite place on campus before being placed on a class roster.
Sister Remy, a world class artist and fantastic teacher, wasn’t about to waste her valuable time on no-talent rubes. After assessing my pathetic portrayal of the famous arches leading from the main academic building to the residence hall, she promptly registered me for art appreciation. Oh, the humiliation and relief when I snagged an A by studying artwork produced by the masters.
I’m going to sign off now; I want to get in a long walk before going to church. My game plan is to take two knees this quiet and peaceful October Saturday to thank the Creator for a long and productive life. I never imagined my world would be filled with so much happiness and beauty and love. I will pray the same is true for you.
Kathleen Marsh is a lifelong educator, writer and community advocate. She has published eight books, four on the history of Townsend, where she and husband Jon are happily retired on the beautiful Townsend Flowage.