Dad celebrated Labor Day by setting up his charcoal grill in the driveway of our house on East 51st Street and spending hours fussing over pork chops or maybe brats purchased at J.B. Hanson’s meat market. He built a special metal cone to keep the briquettes nice and hot, so the end results were pretty darn good; crispy but tender pork chops, tasty brats.
Dad was a union man so every few years, in his honor, I review the original reason for Labor Day. This end-of-the-summer holiday has been observed more than 100 years. Back in the days before everyone went four wheeling, kayaking, or hit the road in RVs and speeding cars, people celebrated Labor Day with organized street parades and speeches for workers and their families.
My personal Labor Day tradition is to mentally chide myself for all the “stuff” I should have done in the summer instead of lolling on the deck or skipping rocks on Lake Superior. Mostly when I think of Labor Day, I recall undone chores… the lilies I didn’t get planted …the house exterior that didn’t get painted…the car that didn’t get waxed.
However, I like to think of myself as growing wiser, so this year instead of regretting lost causes and feeling nostalgic about switching from flip-flops to Sorels, I’m looking to the future. September has many great aspects. For one, it’s is a great month to bake apple crisp, cinnamon flavored and sweet.
It’s also the wonderful time of the year when leaves on Maple Hill turn a brilliant scarlet. Trees and shrubs in this area turn red early and are closely followed by an explosion of color as all the leaves turn.
One of my favorite fall activities is to exchange my quilt wall hanging of lupines to one of autumn leaves, dark red, rich gold and yellow and decorating the front door with an autumnal wreath. This year I might just buy decorative corn and display it outside where the red squirrels and rodents can snack on it.
The potato plants are turning yellow and dying which means soon we must dig them up. Sounds a little goofy but while this deed is work, it has the feel of a treasure hunt as every now and then, an especially large potato or big batch is unearthed. Hopefully, the Norlands and Kennebecs we planted in spring will be bountiful.
Crickets chirping their last songs of the summer are one of my favorite sounds. It reminds me of the good aspects of autumn, and that brings me back to memories of Dad, busy at his charcoal grill.
I sure wish I had one of those brats.
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