Autumn that year painted the countryside in vivid shades of scarlet, saffron and rust, and the days were clear and crisp under harvest skies.Sharon Kay Penman
This adventure just happened — as many of our adventures do. We were driving home from Lexington, Kentucky, and noted what looked to be a farm selling pumpkins and mums. You know, one of those places that make you want to wrap your arms around autumn colors . . . as if you could.
But when we pulled into the parking lot, we realized just what outsiders we really were. This was an auction. A Lincoln County Kentucky Produce auction of mums and pumpkins brought to the venue by farmers so that retail buyers could bid on them one lot at a time.
We tried to remain incognito. After all, we weren’t bidders or sellers. And those who were gathered might not have wanted onlookers anyway. I made the decision to carry only my iPhone so as not to be noticed, and when I saw some of the men and boys wearing straw hats (Were they Amish? Mennonite?), I also decided I wouldn’t take close-ups of individuals since I wasn’t sure how they felt about that.
If a year was tucked inside of a clock, then autumn would be the magic hour.Victoria Erickson
Here were autumn colors up close, in great quantities, ready to go home with buyers who would sell them to customers like us in our home towns . . . a last step, as it were, that would repay growers for months of planning, tending, watering, and harvesting.
Trucks lined up outside an open-air shed, ready for their loads to be auctioned off: mums on one side; pumpkins on the other.
And with the familiar sing-song lilt of the auctioneer’s voice, various lots and sizes were up for sale. When the auctioneer gaveled down the price, he turned to the buyer: “How many lots do you want”?
And then he offered the remainder for sale.
Just like that, one truck would pull in for the bidding, wait for all to be sold, then move on to make room for another.
A few kids roamed around, having a day of fun, probably not realizing what this sale could mean for their families: hoped-for good prices could help them make it through the winter.
But we knew we were watching Americana at its finest: growers, buyers, auctioneers, and families coming together as they always do at the start of fall.
We also knew (but just hadn’t given it that much thought) that autumn colors come from somewhere, some place of origin where people work to make them grow, then willingly part with them to support the people they love and bring a touch of fall to our front porches.
And to think . . . we just happened to stop!
Notice that autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.Friedrich Nietzsche
If you’re adding a little autumn color to your world, remember where it all begins!
Travel in autumn,
Rusha & Bert