Editor’s Letter: There’s nothing like a little dip in the temperature to trigger a round of fall nostalgia and memories of golden days past.
INSIDE: Harvest-themed Get-togethers . . . Page 4
The Fine Art of the Thank-you Gift . . . Page 6
Fresh Corn and Bright Orange Pumpkins . . . Page 8
Sayen Gardens – New Jersey’s Eden . . . Page 11
Dutch Treat . . . Page 14
Cushy Patios for Crisp Fall Evenings. . . Page 15
Autumn Appeal . . . Page 19
Bed, Breakfast and Biking in Brandywine . . . Page 21
Pumpkin-carving Party for Grown-ups . . . Page 24
Outstanding in its Field . . . Page 26
Create and Sustain a Wildlife-friendly Yard . . . Page 27
Respect, Revere, Recycle . . . Page 29
As a child, I knew summer had officially come to an end when our teachers began preparations for the long-awaited, fall carnival. Even the mention of the event sent me into a reverie so rich that I became intolerable with anticipation. That one Friday evening each year exemplified the beginning of caramel apples, crisp breezes and the yearly spectacle of my father on ladder stringing holiday lights under the eaves. On the actual day of the event, my classmates and I would waver just this side of controlled mania, our teachers somehow convincing us to apply ourselves to arithmetic and spelling. The hours between 3:00, when the final bell rang, and6:00, when the carnival kicked off, were as close to unbearable as any I have yet to experience. Every year, I squirreled away every penny of the allowance I had earned by raking and vacuuming over the past months. A paltry sum in the end, but not so bad once the old man threw in an extra dollar. At the corner of the ticket booth, I calculated how often the number of tickets could afford would allow me to try my hand at the cakewalk and ring toss. Once I had estimated my limits, I set about being a kid drunk on the golden elixir of personal liberty. A fall carnival is an entirely different animal today than it was 30 years ago – a cultural relic recalled only by those of us born before 1970. There were no mechanized rides or inflatable castles, but rather a tired pony that, for two tickets, would clop around a dusty oval on the play ground. At the far end of the field, the school’s janitor pulled a cart filled with hay and eight year olds behind a tractor. Closer in, my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Richardson, manned the cakewalk where, with a less-than steady hand she lifted the arm of a record player while giggling contestants scrambled for a seat in the ever-decreasing circle of chairs. So, here we are, all grown up- perhaps with kids of our own. But fall is still the same – the crispness in the air, the slight rustle as leaves turn papery, and the sense of excitement as the holidays near has a tendency to overtake all of us. No matter what fall reminds you of, be it roast turkey or pumpkin carving, let the kid inside out for a while. It’s never too late – and the carnival’s just around the bend.