Fall is upon us, dappling us in golden rays and forcing us to don our jackets once more. With pumpkin spice everything in mind, in SixContest #61 we challenged you to tell us the #SixWordsThatTasteLikeFall. Whether savoring delicious treats (“Frothy cinnamon drinks create autumnal mustache.” –Maeva) or suffering through seasonal allergies (“Ragweed choking air. I can’t breathe.” –MsKillie), your stories made our senses tingle as we hunkered down under blankets alongside you (“Autumn’s cool air whispers sweet nothings” –mytaphrodite). Before the leaves let go of their branchy homes, ‘fall’ into these delightful Six-Word Memoirs with us! —Lauren Jackson
6. “The first honeycrisp, the last tomato.” –shannonholman
5. “Winds whistle as the trees weep.” —@AnnoGalactic (via Twitter)
4. “Let’s get out the Crock Pot.” –@greeneyedlilo (via Twitter)
3. “Summer fades. Nature darkens daylight’s shades.” –CanadaGoose
2. “Replacing open toes with knee highs.” –zsuzsu
And the tastiest fall quip:
1. “Autumn’s harvest simply begs for Cabernet.” —Kalyanii
Still looking to get into the spirit of the season? Read this fantastic backstory submitted by knick-knack:
“Family Apples: The fruits of Autumn” —knick-knack
I got my first, official, real-life grown-up job at the ripe old age of twelve-and-a-half. My uncle owns an apple orchard, and every Saturday for the past hundred years, he loads up his trusty old truck and carts crates upon crates of apples right on down to West Allis, where he rolls out a faux piece of crinkling turf and lays it down on the tables dedicated to our farm. Soon, these tables groan and creak, protesting their burden as they are laden with apples of every shape, color, and size. You have never seen true fall until you gaze upon a farmer’s table. A million hues of red, a thousand types of apple, and I can tell you with absolute certainty which apples to use for butter, which ones will wow in pies, and which ones are best for plain good ol’ snacking on anyday.
This farmers’ market is my home.
It is constantly changing. The honey guy across from us slowly stops coming as winter creeps in. Flashes of color, a roar of voices as the elderly bicker and children race and scream at each new bright thing catches their eye. I know the regulars. I smile at kids and adults alike. I have broken a 100$ bill for a 1$ cup of cider and have slipped people an extra quarter or two when needed. I love it here.
This is my family. Literally my family, the one time I really ever see them, other than Christmas and Mother’s day. But we’re all friends. We’re a family. We’re an orchard.
We are Fall. 🙂