Going from column to column

In 1950 I wrote this for my "Dawn to Dusk" column:

"Picking up one of my new magazines the other day, it fell open to a page that headlined 'Let's make this the happiest fall.' Good, I thought, I'm in favor of that. Before I read the article my mind got busy with how I might make this the happiest fall. The project seemed to fall into three topic heads: Things outside the house, Things inside the house, Things inside of me.

"I shall go to some orchard, sit under an apple tree until an apple falls with a soft plop at my feet. I shall eat it slowly and thoughtfully, not leaving much of a core. I shall follow a creek to where the purple foxgrapes grow. I will walk in fields of goldenrod and thistles and sit in some sunny corner to pick off the burrs I've taken on and listen to the crickets. I will watch spiders at sunset and inspect their dew-beaded webs at dawn. I will tear open a ripe milkweed pod and fling the silken seeds on the air. I will take a basket and gather persimmons, hickory nuts and molted blue jay feathers. I will plant more jonquil bulbs, separate the irises. I will go to a sorghum mill, a football game. I'll sniff the air for woodsmoke, listen for a wild goose, watch the birds gang up for their upcoming journey south. Some days I'll just sit in the sun doing nothing.

"Inside the house there will be pleasant odors of spice, seasoned pies again, a bowl of red shiny apples on the table, a stack of good books ready to be read and digested. I shall clean every far corner of the house once. Little woolly spiders and crickets that come in after that will more than likely go undisturbed. Blankets will be aired, pillows put on the clothesline to fluff. Occasionally an overstuffed chair will be set outside to be swept by the wind and kissed by the sun. I'll make a yellow smock to wear on dark rainy days and a blue one for golden sunny days.

"Inside of me there will be a renewal of the old pledge to cultivate the art of awareness to the highest degree possible, to consider each new day a new beginning and yet a part of all that has gone before and all that will come afterwards. I shall try to trace my thoughts all the way to some definite end and not let them go flying off at tangents like a Fourth of July Catherine Wheel.

"After all this, I read the article. It started out by stating that 'no one can be unhappy who is planning to increase the happiness of others.' I blushed with shame. My thoughts and vows had been so selfish. Then I tried to rationalize by telling myself those spice-scented pies were meant to be shared. What a lonesome little thing it seemed to be amongst all the others."

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In July 2002, I wrote this: I must still try to make this the happiest fall. I want to add something to that, like "considering," or "in a lower key with four to the bar instead of eight."

So how do I proceed with the third topic head, "Things Inside of Me?"

I will still try to keep in touch with my friends, either by card or letter, telephone or published thoughts. I can get into my yellow and blue smocks again so I'll wear them for the dark days and the sunny ones. Whoever steps upon my back porch, I'll invite them to sit in the swing with me and watch my wild pets, especially Siesta, my only named squirrel. Some time between 3 and 3:30 p.m., on days when it isn't raining, he will spiral up the big oak to the first limb and flatten out, spread-eagle-like and take a nap, about a half hour.

So why is one thinking of how to make the happiest fall when we're barely into summer? Well, after 52 years, things change. I no longer walk up the creekside to get the wild grapes, or sit under an apple tree to eat an apple. Like Siesta, I'm content to find a good relaxing spot on the porch and revel in these old memories. Much less exhausting.

REJOICE!

Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.