Fall is my favourite. Ha, believe it or not, I don’t think I’ve ever had a pumpkin spice latte. I know I’ve been missing out and should make drinking it part of the fun of Fall. I never thought I would have liked the taste of pumpkin spice! It’s only reflecting today on the season that I realize I would like one.
Despite that, for me, Fall is wonderful. I take photographs at the cemetery where I help tend the grounds, and I like to get a few pictures of the tall trees there. It can be a quiet spectacle. If I stand in the right spot, I can see the lay of the land, the stones jutting out of the ground beneath the colourful treetops. We don’t have much time in the Fall, though, because as the temperature drops we spend less and less time taking care of the outdoors, and we move inside the old, broken down church on the property. Fall is my favourite.
Already by now, I believe most school campus Frosh Weeks have finished, but I know when I was a Freshman in the Fall of 1996, the students were told to represent their divisions, whether it be Arts & Science, where I was allotted, or Commerce, or Fine Arts, and so on. Fall is my favourite. One September day during Frosh Week the students and I were given balloons in an exercise nearly of warfare. The balloons got to be filled with water, and soon we were in a game of water balloons, instructed to take on our rivals with a sneak attack of the water sport variety, and threw water balloon after water balloon onto the other team.
While it wasn’t businesslike, it didn’t strike me as strange after the days of parading and getting to know the campus of the school. What was a bit nonsensical is that after the water balloon launch, me and my team were sat down in a lecture hall and admonished for doing such a lowly thing! A girl, more experienced, took the podium and told us how far we’d sunk for interfering with the flow of the Frosh Week. Novice though I was, I was astonished at the lesson we were being given.
My pride was injured. I felt the sting of being rebuked as I sat and heard the bad of what we had done. As we marched out after the lecture, most of us probably indifferent to the foolishness that had come down on us, I personally was a little more stiff with anger, and also on a path to greater rebelliousness. It didn’t seem like irony to me that we had played this prank, and been caught. It had been part of the fun, and it was wrongful.
I don’t reflect on this much, although I think now it was a lesson in doing the right thing and in showing respect. Perhaps it wasn’t; I should have asked if the girl who handed down to us the words of shame was taking advantage of an opportunity, and what was behind her stern talk. Nowadays, as in 2014, I go to the church and cemetery with a camera in my pocket and snap photos of the grounds in the care of Peter and I. I’ve mostly forgotten about what happened with me and the other Arts & Science Frosh and the water balloons.
Fall is my favourite. The leaves of the trees at the cemetery change colour, of course, and it is a passing joy to capture the image. Even without a photographic record, it is a calming presence at the cemetery as the green disappears. The air cools off slowly, over many days, and we take our time keeping the grounds in order. Fall is a lovely season, and a favourite time of year for me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.