Celebrating the season with fall family traditions

There are few things in life better than a fall weekend.

When my children were little we would celebrate fall by collecting a few monarch caterpillars from the leaves of milkweed plants. Small hands would gently place the tiny creatures into an old glass aquarium.

Every day the kids would put in fresh milkweed leaves and watch while they grew, plumped up and attached themselves to the screen on the top of that old tank. We would then hang the screen between two old chairs on my back deck of my home and wait until the first brilliant orange and black wings began to appear. The three of us would sit on the porch steps and watch those beautiful creatures soar and float off into the blue September sky.

When all of the cocoons opened up and every last monarch was on its way we would begin with the rest of the fall preparations. We would do the usual things like picking pumpkins from a friend’s farm and making scarecrows out of the stacks of leaves that would pile up in the yard. Sometimes we would even pick apples for a pie.

But the most special thing that we would all do together was make a trip to the riding stable for a trail ride through the fields on some ponies. My son would always want to ride on a horse that was bigger than any other horse in the group. My daughter wouldn’t care what color her pony was as long as she was wearing her boots. I would just place them so that they were spaced apart; my son had a nasty little habit of trying to make her pony ride faster.

This past weekend’s weather was perfect and the trees had just the right amount of color. The last of the monarchs broke free from their slumber and gently floated off into the blue sky above. My daughter grabbed the camera and took a photo before the butterfly disappeared from view, saying ,“know what this means mom? It’s time for our yearly trip to the stable.”

And so it goes. We headed off to the riding stable; she was wearing her boots. This stable matches the rider to the horse. My daughter got a beautiful brown quarter horse with a gentle personality. They brought me out a wonderful horse that was an Arabian-quarter horse mix, pure white in color with the long legs of a runner. The guide brought him over to me, and offered to give me a boost. I opted for the step stool.

A quick adjustment of the stirrups and we were off, over a ridge and then through a brook, I had the feel of him by the time we hit the crest of the first hill. I could feel his feet picking up tempo, his mane gently tossing with eager anticipation. I pat his neck and looked down at his fine face, his nostrils were flared and I instinctively knew that once we hit the top field there would be no holding this fine animal back.

True to his nature, he let out a gentle moan and he was off, his feet barely hitting the ground below. As if by magic, everything around me was a blur as we sped towards the far end of the green field. I was not a participant but a blessed passenger as we sped towards a patch of green at the top of the hill. I brought him to a gentle stop and paused a moment to look at the valley below. My daughter caught up to me at the magnificent old stonewall. The two of us smiled as we watched a monarch butterfly drifting past us.

“What a way to welcome fall,” she said.