What is it about fall and the onset of winter that makes me reflective? (And I don’t mean like the lights on the back of the car.)

I’m remembering the job of raking leaves. I grew up in Eastern Washington and our yard had too many trees, if you would have asked me then. Maple, oak and elm – all these let loose their leaves in preparation for winter. It was my sister’s and my job to rake these leaves into piles then load them in the wheelbarrow and deliver them to the burning pile at the back of the property.

I’m thinking about the times about halfway through the job when we had a big pile and we would run and jump into it, throwing leaves at each other and generally un-piling the pile. Of course there was re-raking, but the happy memories make me think it was worth the extra work.

Fall is a time of change. Routines change with the back-to-school stuff and organizations start their monthly meetings again and for me, my bridge club gets back into its regular schedule. It’s a big change from the hectic summer company, water activities, Fourth of July parties and just plain no time limit on fun. I’m thinking, too, that this was the time of year my mother thought we needed to

thoroughly clean the house. “Before all the holidays started.” I don’t know why we need clean closets and aired mattresses and a clean basement before the holidays, but if mother said we did, we did.

I personally don’t rake leaves anymore nor do I feel it’s time to take the mattresses out to the backyard and beat them free of dust, but I do get the urge to make things tidy.

Throwing away that basket of old plastic pop bottles that could be filled with fresh water to carry on the boat and tossing out all those old scoops that come in the laundry detergent I saved for the kids to use when they dig on the beach. Then I threw away all the old sweatshirts I saved to wear when I paint – I’m not going to paint any time soon. And I gave away all the fancy, knee-high hose I bought just because I thought someday I’d want to gussy-up wearing fish-net and patterned stockings with my dress-up pants suits (and I gave those suits to the Hansville Rummage Sale already).

No doubt it’s something in my genes that makes me feel this urge. The genes from my father that made my hair turn white at an early age, and the genes from my mom that make it hard to keep my girlish figure. Or maybe it’s just that Thanksgiving is right here upon us and Christmas isn’t far behind. Whatever it is, I’m reflective and nostalgic and whatever other words you can use for wistful.

The good thing is that it won’t last long – this reflection time – because pretty soon the rush of the holidays and happy gatherings will begin. That’s the good news.

Tell me how you feel at welltoldtales@aol.com.