Why do we get so quaint in the fall?
What is it about Autumn that makes everybody embrace hayrides and cider donuts?
As a kid who grew up in a nice Wisconsin small town, I’m comfortable with a certain amount of quaintness.
That’s not to say that I embrace it wholeheartedly. I am very much a modernist in most things. Although I can be stung by the nostalgia bug once in a while (I’ve been known to play records and cassettes) I generally prefer the digital to the analog.
Yet, there is something about autumn that brings out an appreciation for the quaint and natural in most of us.
My parents like to take long weekend drives through the state to view the leaves change colors (They report it wasn’t a great year, unfortunately).
My beloved UW-Madison Arboretum--the site of my most frequent outdoor strolls--is overrun with flannel-clad leaf enthusiasts.
And crowds flock to the fall farms that dot the Wisconsin countryside looking for hayrides, pumpkins and other quaint strands of fun.
I, too, enjoy a reasonable dose of this kind of Autumnal activity on the farm. You won’t find me carving a pumpkin, but I enjoy surveying the pumpkins, gourds, corn mazes, and farm animals.
I like perusing the homemade or locally produced treats in the converted barn shops. I’m talking about jams, jellies, and artisan honey. I’m talking pumpkin bread, kettle corn, and cider donuts.
These are not foods I eat regularly but when the cool breeze of fall blows in that harvest smell my taste buds yearn for these delites.
This year, I took a pleasant drive to Lodi’s Treinen Farm Corn Maze and Pumpkin Patch on the last weekend before Halloween.
Treinen boasts 14 acres of pumpkin patch and the largest, most award-winning corn maze in Wisconsin. This year’s design featured an elephant and crocodile.
The inspiration for the maze was Rudyard Kipling’s children’s story “The Elephant’s Child.” Kipling is most well-known for “The Jungle Book.”
I didn’t check into the maze. I much preferred to admire the creativity via aerial photos. I also dodged the traditional hey-ride to the pumpkin patch.
Instead, I walked around the main area of the farm looking at the farm animals and rubbing the noses of a few horses.
I also saw a goat standing on top of a pony’s back for some reason. I was very impressed and amused. I took many photos and Snaps.
I was impressed because the goat jumped on the pony’s back while my back was turned. I only caught this random sight when I looked over my shoulder. I immediately started laughing.
How in the world did the goat jump on the pony’s back? And how did I not hear this happen as I was only a few meters away?
Furthermore, why doesn’t the pony care? The pony just munched on some hay while the goat shuffled his hooves around on the pony’s back.
I have many questions.
Aside from checking out the animals, I found myself searching the charming food items. I’m looking forward to trying out the apple cider jelly I acquired on some toast.
I had been craving cider donuts, but those highly-desirable treats were sold out. I should have come earlier in the season.
I’ll let the honks of Canadian Geese remind me next year.
What drives us to quaintness in the fall? The weather? The harvest? Psychological preparation for winter? All of the above?
Whatever it is, the flavors and smells align almost mystically with the chill and the earthy smell in the air.
I don’t think a pumpkin pie or cider donuts taste the same if you eat them in June or in Southern California.
Any chef will tell you that smell is an incredibly important part of crafting a good meal. But so are so many other feelings.
For me, quaintness works best in a similar Autumnal sweet spot.
CRAIG SAUER is a writer, communicator and former journalist living in Fitchburg, Wis.
