So, I’m wondering why we call the season of autumn “fall.” Back in the old (very old) days, we referred to this time of year as “harvest time,” which makes a lot of sense to me. “Fall” and “autumn” became popular terms during the 1600’s, when people began moving from rural farmlands into larger metropolitan cities. Without farming, the term “harvest” became less applicable to the lives of city-dwellers, and subsequently, “fall” and “autumn” emerged as two new names for the season.

“Autumn” is derived from the “autumnus,” a Latin word having connotations of “the passing of the year.” The term “fall” was likely from Old English words “fiaell” and “feallan,” both of which mean “to fall from a height.” It is assumed that this new name for the season was inspired by trees’ falling leaves. Again, makes sense to me.

By the 19th century, “fall” had become a totally American term, while “autumn” remained the commonly used British term. In fact, one source I found referred to the use of “fall” as “an American barbarism.”

But no matter what you call it – harvest, fall, or autumn – it’s a special time of year. Leaves turn wonderful colors and fall like snow from the trees. Birds sing and frolic. Pumpkins start appearing on doorsteps and in windows. Candy appears in every type of store. People start stashing away lightweight clothing and getting out sweaters, jackets, and hoodies. It’s all amazing. And for me, it’s just a glorious countdown to the main event – Christmas!

As I write this, there are 81 days until we officially celebrate Christmas. And before we get to the big day, we have all of autumn, pumpkin carving, trick-or-treating, costume events, Halloween, Thanksgiving, football, shopping, decorating, caroling, and wrapping presents! It’s my very, absolutely, positively favorite time of year.  People are full of love and the giving spirit, even more than usual, and you see acts of kindness everywhere. Fun stuff happens too – like my friend who has her family on a “group text” (whatever that is) and her daughter advised her mom, in the group text,  that she found out her husband would like a football jersey for Christmas. Of course, that meant the entire family, including her husband, read the information, so his gift might not be a big surprise.

It’s this kind of funny and fun thing that sustains me in happiness and joy and  keeps me from dwelling on the economy, the pandemic, the frightful number of deaths and hospitalizations, worry for my near and dear who work in hospitals and groceries and food service, and from the incredible number of people who wear masks as chin guards. I mean seriously, do they think COVID will enter through the dimple in their chin? It’s all I can do not to alert people that their mask is not doing them (or me) any good at all when dangling from their ear, wound around their neck, or pulled down when they talk. People don’t seem to realize that when we talk, a million little invisible particles of spit emit from our mouths and nose. It happens to even the most sophisticated among us, so please leave your mask up and speak a little louder!

Okay, off the soap box. Hey, “soapbox.” Where did that word come from?  According to Wikipedia, it comes from people turning over wooden crates used to ship soap to stand on and make an impromptu speech, usually political. Now it means any time we get on a rant about something, even if we’re just sitting at a keyboard.

So I’m off the soapbox about proper mask attire (what mask are you wearing for Halloween?) and on to making my Christmas shopping list. Shop local this year as much as you can, please!  Though that is a topic for another day, and another soapbox!