I am thrilled to be able to report to all of you that fall is in fact NOT just a conspiracy theory…ladies and gentlemen, it actually does exist. If you are like me and you have lived half of your life in Kailua Kona, Hawai’i and the other half of your life in the hill country of Texas you might not have been too convinced that fall really was a real thing. But I am happy to confirm that it is a very real thing.
My favorite fall item is not a pumpkin spice latte, like my fellow American ladies, but rather the Virginia creeper, Parthenocissus quinquefolia. It’s a gorgeous climbing vine that turns bright red in fall. It grows here in the South of France; it is native to east and central North America, from southeastern Canada all along the eastern seaboard, all the way into Utah and plunging into south and eastern Mexico and Guatemala. It calls everyone’s attention to itself, though it seems that everyone is so used to its call that they all continue marching on without a glance up to see what beautiful artistry is screaming out right in front of them. Maybe, I too will get used to the crimson leaves, and forget them once the last one has dropped and blown away. But, I think I would miss them on my walks around town if they were no longer there.
I have found myself obsessed with the crisp fall breeze, the sweaters and the scarves on the well dressed french people, the golden and crimson leaves scattered on every tree-lined pathway in the city. Every time a gust of wind tugs the crunchy leaves from the skinny branches of the Honey Locust (Gleditsia triacanthos) and swirls them all around to paint the city with a cloud of yellow, I find myself mesmerized by the smell of cool, dry wind, and the chime of the leaves trying to hold tight to their twiggy homes. Aldo Leopold and I agree that following the wind is the best way to go, “It is warm behind the driftwood now, for the wind has gone with these geese. So would I—if I were the wind.” It is strange to think that just a few weeks ago the city was warm and green and the leaves and I had no idea what was coming our way. I couldn’t be more happy with this surprise; though the colder it gets the more out of my element I feel. I am used to 60 degree (fahrenheit) winters and now I have to decipher the metric system to even know what kind of cold is awaiting me outside.
Fall just would not be the same here without the honey locust, and it actually is not even a native French tree species; it beat us here right from our neck of the woods. It grows naturally in the American great plains stretching from Texas to Kentucky and Utah. This tough tree can withstand the naturally dry, barren land of the plains and in fact they thrive in this environment. They naturally have thorns to deter anything from munching on them, but just in case anyone tries to brave it, the tree protects its sweet seeds in a very tough leathery pod. This tree became popular as an ornamental plant because it is resistant and hardy. It can grow in urban settings such as small spaces, compacted soil, alkaline soil, road salt, heat and drought. It also got its popularity from its convenient little skill: the honey locust is very easy to transplant. Its ability to grow very quickly, even under poor conditions, make it a go to for housing developments, new parks, or other places that want large, shady trees that grow very quickly.
One of my favorite ways to see the differences in the seasons (besides the leaves) is the weekly saturday farmers market here in Angers. The first week that we went to the local farmer’s market, we were able to get white peaches (that were absolutely incredible), but when we went back again, a few weeks later, and asked the same farmer, that we had spoken to before, where they were, he regretfully informed us that the last crop was harvested the week before on the the tenth of September. He only had a single crate left (some of which were still usable while others were not so usable anymore) which he practically gave away to Katie for two euros, what a steal! We skipped happily as we carried them back to our little homes and we then made the most delicious jam ever with the wilting white peaches. I found this very interesting because seasonality seems to be nonexistent in the states. If produce is not able to grow where we are, we just ship it in from somewhere else. We, as Americans, have this false mentality that the customer is always right, we can never let the consumer down…whatever it takes. No matter the environmental impact of these practices. It is eye-opening to learn the seasonality of our foods and realize that, no, you cannot get everything all of the time, pas possible.
Often we wonder why our American society is so materialistic and ignorant to the environmental issues that are affecting our world today. In the words of the great Bob Dylan the answer my friend is blowin in the wind. It’s just that none of us are listening to it.
(That’s pretty neat.)
Anita. “Micro-creche Owner Educator.” Personal interview. 6 Oct. 2015.
“Honey locust.” Honey locust. Department of Horticulture University of Kentucky, n.d. Web. 12 Oct. 2015.
Leopold, Aldo. A Sand County Almanac. With Other Essays on Conservation from Round River. New York: Oxford UP, 1966. Print.
Narrissa G. “Narrissa British Perspective on Childhood Education.” Personal interview. 12 Oct. 2015.
Paul. “Farmer’s Market Seasonality Revelation.” Personal interview. 10 Oct. 2015.
“Thornless Honeylocust on the Tree Guide.” Arborday.org. Arbor Day Foundation, n.d. Web. 12 Oct. 2015.
