Have you ever wondered why the season autumn is often called fall?  Wonder no more.  Read the title to this column and you’ll learn what you may have already surmised.

   “Fall of the leaves” is the phrase that was used in Old England to describe the time between summer and winter.  That was natural, of course, because colder temperatures and the trees losing their leaves were the things people noticed.  The word autumn was also used.

   The shortened term “fall” became more popular with the colonists in America.  While back in England, the word fall was sometimes used, but not to the same extent as here in the “new world.”  So, now you know.

   I’m a fall fan. The mountains are beautiful with the yellows, reds, and browns of aspens,  maples and oaks.  It’s also a beautiful feeling that the time of mowing the lawn is coming to an end.

   It was 48 years ago this month that I made my first trip to New England.  I had met the girl, who I eventually married,  in June of 1977 at BYU in Provo.  We immediately began sharing quite a bit of time together.

   That time together came to an abrupt halt after a few weeks.   She had a plan and kept with it. She took the fall semester (notice we don’t say “autumn semester”)  off that year and went home to Connecticut.

   Since she was a new friend in New England, I decided that it was a good idea to attempt making arrangements to go see the colors of the famous fall foliage.  Of course, there was that minor motivation (ahem)  of being able to see my  new friend, in addition to the autumn leaves.

   I floated the idea of an “autumn leaves visit” to Diane.   And abracadabra! –  I almost instantly had an invitation from her parents to come stay with them for my proposed vacation.

   (Notice I said “proposed vacation.”  I didn’t say “proposal vacation.”   The word “proposal” wasn’t in play until more than a year later.  I’m not called “Speed” for nothing.)

   My future in-laws were very hospitable and accommodating for my visit.   I remember well that the most tense moment was with Diane’s mom.  She was a fiery red-head with – let’s say – a lot of personality.

   She got up close to me and looked me in the eyes and said, “I don’t know you beans from buttermilk.  Why should I let you take my daughter to Boston on an overnight trip?”

   Though I remember her words well, my exact answer is lost from my memory.  But I believe, being the smart-alecky, yet affable (yeah, sure),  young man that I was, I may well have said something like, “Mrs. Luty, if your daughter and I were going to do something you didn’t approve of, we wouldn’t have to go to Boston to do it.”

   Whatever I said was successful for getting the desired permission. (Remember this was 1977 and, in my culture,  we asked for permission in those days.)  We took off and stayed with Diane’s classmate friend from high school who was attending Boston College.

   (By the way, Boston College is neither in Boston,  nor is it a college.  It’s a university located in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts – 6 miles west of downtown Boston.  I would hope that if Snow College ever becomes a university,  that it will retain the name Snow College.)

   What’s happened here?  I’ve gotten sidetracked from the topic “fall of leaves.”   Let me say, I did see lots, and I mean lots, of trees and leaves on that 1977 trip.  It was memorable.

   I began a great friendship with Diane’s mom and dad.  And, besides seeing beautiful leaves in four or five states, my friendship with Diane – let’s say, progressed.

   I went golfing with Jim, my future dad-in-law.  He taught me that there are some rounds of golf, like ours, that we just plain don’t ever score more than six strokes on any hole.  I mean really, why would we want to get discouraged and make a scorecard (mine) look bad.

   That golfing occasion was the first time I heard the expression, “I need to see a man about a horse.”  If you haven’t heard that before, it’s a discreet way to give an excuse to take care of a private matter – usually to use the restroom.  That’s another saying that originated in the UK.   It was popularized in a play in the 1800’s that featured a live horse on stage.

   Back to fall leaves.   This topic came up in my mind because I recently was looking back in my diary from the fall of 1976.  This short entry will give you a glimpse into my personality:  “…the leaves were so beautiful and crunchy today; I couldn’t bear to rake them up…”

   That tells you two things.  One –  that I have a genuine appreciation for beauty in nature.  Two –  that I am adept at justifying avoidance or delay of physical labor.

    I mentioned this diary entry to my niece.  Natalie responded, “I have the same feeling about dishes in the sink.  They look so cozy – cuddled there together.  I can’t bear to wash them.”

    Fall has been with us for a couple of weeks now.  I’ve been around quite a number of people who have told me that fall is their favorite season of the year.  I think the color and the “fall of leaves” is a major part of their love of this season.

   Let’s get out there and enjoy this season.  It won’t be all that long before we’re talking ourselves into attempting to enjoy the next season that’s lurking around the corner.   — Merrill