My favorite time of the year is upon us, Autumn. Memories come back with every falling leaf. Father bundled up the house with storm windows on brisk Fall weekends. Our house was on a hill, the foundation was cozily built into it and with every blustery breeze, I felt secure, knowing that our home was held in the arms of mother earth. Dad laid the old wooden ladder against the front and carefully climbed up to screw the windows in. Mother always felt uneasy and said prayers for his safe return from 15 feet off the ground. He was like a circus performer, he devised a pulley system that rose the window off the ground close to him where he could maneuver it into the space after he took the screens off. It was something to see, how I marveled at his imaginative solutions to being a one man team.
Dad was also a trumpet player, and Autumn Leaves was one of his favorite to play.