To every thing, there is a season…
September brings the promise of nostalgia as autumn marks a
season of rest . Summer draws to a close, and the kids go back to school. Crops
are ready for harvest, sweaters come out storage, and our minds turn from water
skiing to cozy nooks piled high with books.
Autumn has always been my favorite part of the year. Where
some mourn the loss of sunshine and barbecues, I revel in the crispness of the
air, the golden hues of the trees and the sunsets, and the promise of a quiet
that descends upon the earth, like a down comforter.
While the hazy days of summer fade, the scent of cinnamon
and apples permeate the air. Suddenly, all-things-pumpkin take over coffee
shops and bakeries. Grocery store aisles are filled with apple cider, spiced
tea, and mulling spices. The boys of
summer run toward the World Series, and suddenly televisions are filled with
gridiron games narrated by barrel-voiced baritone armchair quarterbacks.
And suddenly, I find myself longing to visit with an old
friend…Ray Bradbury, and his hauntingly beautiful story, Something Wicked This Way Comes.
There is a magic to his words which hypnotize the heart, propelling
the reader, back in time, to a world where every town had a Main Street, where
every community was the village that
raised each child, and where evil only existed in the dark of night behind the
folds of a mystical carnival tent.
Bradbury’s story gives us so much more, however. Through
Will Halloway’s father, we see ourselves.
Adults who strive to carry a torch and follow the path, occasionally
pausing to look back and find that children we once were, frolicking in the
leaves, and running with wild abandon and laughter into that golden sunset.
