George Smith: The leaves of Autumn and being different
Oct 13, 2013 | 2915 views |  0 comments | 33 33 recommendations | email to a friend | print

The first leaves of the fall ...


The dying leaves from the crepe myrtle were sort of “skittering” along the brick walkway. The breeze was slight at best, but it doesn’t take much to move a dead leaf, not much for summer to fade into autumn to fade into winter.

From me, there was:

“October is the loveliest month of the year.”

From the blonde, there was:

“It’s my favorite month of the year.”

But then:

“Only trouble is that means winter is coming.”

Two things came to me as we stood in the twilight’s quiet:

1. We’d actually found something we agreed on. She had said the “no” word, winter.

We both have a dislike for winter ... cold feet, cold nose, cold nights, cold days, the first day of spring at least two years away.

October ...

A long time ago, the late Cody Hall, executive editor of this newspaper, wrote a wonderful column each year on September. Each column was somehow different from the one before.

Since he was my boss, he had seniority and that meant I got October. Columnists tend to write about “days” on the calendar that are in red, but not a Sunday. Cody’s ability to be different on the same old subject was enviable, to say the least.

I’ve mentioned that before, but not today and I’d guess if you had all my October columns in one box, you could reach in, pick one, and read them all. So ... difference.


My baby sister was born on Oct. 1. She was a squally, pink little thing that ran through diapers like water off a roof. Trouble with that is I was her baby sitter. I probably changed her diapers about as much as Mom did.

The good news is she grew into a beautiful young lady with smarts. She was the first valedictorian Saks High School had.

October ...

Baseball playoffs. Baseball is the loveliest of all games and there’s a 46-inch hi-def Samsung out in my barn where I will spend all sorts of time ... until the next World Champion Baseball Team is crowned. The Braves aren’t there, but my favorite game is.

October ...

Alabama versus Tennessee, “Third Saturday in October.” Just not as much fun now since Tennessee has fallen on lean times with Bama as good as ever in its history. This year it’s “The Fourth Sunday in October,” but I’ll still watch ...

October ...

Witches and goblins and Charlie Brown out there in the pumpkin patch awaiting the coming of The Great Pumpkin. He won’t come —  never does — and for Charlie it will be “wait’ll next year.” Charlie will be there, The Great Pumpkin will not. Curses ...

October ...

As the days pass, those leaves out there will require raking. The good news is Oscar, who lives next door, will use them as mulch in his garden once I have them bagged. More good news is Oscar will have a garden, I will not.

October ...

Those falling leaves had me headed for my car for a drive up Choccolocco Valley and across Bain’s Gap looking for color. As of Friday, no color. Means I’ll have to go back and gas just jumped from 3.06 in Saks to 3.19.


This is “Walk To School Month,” which should be in Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. I have no idea who thought that one up since nobody walks anymore. Autumn’s colors look much better from the comfort of your car.


One of my favorite listens is Willie Nelson singing “September Song.” I’ve always wondered why someone hasn’t written “October Song” for the loveliest month of the year.

This little essay may not be all that good, but it is different ... and I’ll see you next October.


George Smith can be reached at 256-239-5286 or email:


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