Fall Cornucopia

Posted on November 11th, 2009 by Maya Christina

The Fall Harvest The dark. As a child I loved the coming of the dark. I grew up in the desert and the sun was merciless until Fall came when it lowered its head and seemed to rest a moment. Because of this the Fall had a cozy, homey feel to me. I was very aware of the quality of light in the Fall, low and intimate. The sun was now mine, not some distant burn up high, far away being out of my reach. It was up close and personal. It warmed me instead of burning me. This made the whole world feel more like my living room, my home and I belonged exactly where I was. I too could rest. Settle in. Daily ritual kicked in as school held a steady pace of week in and week out.

This was a time of certain smells coming from the kitchen; baked puddings replaced the peach-y pitch of summer. Caramels melted in a big pot and round, red apples dipped in. A parade of holidays commenced beginning with Halloween and ending with my birthday in January. The smell of food and Fall went together with the darkness.

Now I live in San Francisco. No longer embraced by the heat and dust of the summer desert, the coming of Fall still has a special flavor in its arrival, still a particular slant of light. Our bright bay windows, facing East are softer and sweeter somehow as the sun arcs a lower path through the sky. The warmth of the acupuncture clinic down stairs wafts up to hold us in its tender concern. I revel in the warmth and the neighborhood quiet with my husband. In the evenings I cook up our meals, more focused on earthy vegetables, the summer fruits gone to composting the Fall’s harvest. The darkness has already arrived as I put the rice on and ponder spices. It’s like I have a different heart in the Fall. A softer, quieter heart that is open to different places than my summer heart.

Matthew misses Philly in the Fall. I can understand that. The colors are much more fancy and exuberant back east. Here we simply slide into the Fall, gentle and without fanfare. It’s as if we turned around to hear a whisper and stay facing that direction.

But I notice now as a grown up, I’ve become more attached to the light, the long days, the bright evenings. I want to stay up and play! Matthew has ruined the farm-wife in me and now I stay up late more often than I greet the rising sun. Halloween/Día de los Muertos is one of my absolute favorite times of year, but it marks the era of the clock lying down. “Fall back…” the time changes and the dark comes in for its place at the dinner table. I notice I have a pout I never had as a child. So when Matthew took down the Día de los Muertos altar and suggested the “Fall altar” I was relieved. It gave me a focus to direct my heart and open up more. In perfect gay style, inherited I imagine from his very decorative and celebratory father, he suggested we make a cornucopia from bread! Oh yes!

Making the bread cornucopia He researched the old goat horn and the outpouring of the harvest and got the cornucopia going. I jumped at the opportunity to do the altar spread. We reminded ourselves of all of our abundance and gratitude. We placed corn and coffee, squash and shells and sand on our altar. Then leaves and flowers and lemons gathered with Zai from our neighborhood and dried staffs of grain. We included candles and pomegranates, husks from the tomatillos I used to make Zai’s salsa and coins from our trip to Mexico. Zai made her own altar in her own special place. And that night, before we settled into bed, we had an altar “tour” and acknowledged the earth moving and the seasons changing.

Our Fall Altar with Bread Cornucopia We talked about the darkness and the days getting shorter. We lit our candles and loved some love. It is Fall and the world is our living room, the world is our altar. All things and all beings are special and held in the perfect place in the perfect light as life goes on and on and on. Yeay!