I had begun composing a blog post observing and reflecting poetically on the rustling silk skirts and shirts of Autumn and then suddenly, there I was, driving home on that notorious stretch of road on the 22 in blinding snow squalls that had traffic at a standstill. A few mornings later there was a thick blanket of snow pulled up over everything. The pumpkins outside the door that hadn’t made their way to the manure yard yet sat piled high with snow. That blanket of snow had settled onto a mat of leaves in the back yard that never did get raked up and hauled away. While I managed to get the few dahlia bulbs dug up and brought in on that one nice Fall day we did have, the spider plant that I took out to the porch in the early summer now sits frozen and forlorn where I forgot it on the bench. Paul Parker, the spider who took up residence in between the windows by the kitchen sink in the middle of August, was still alive but looking rather sluggish. I know and feel the angst of a farmer with corn still standing in the field and hear the angst of a custom operator who manages the harvest of other farmers’ corn crops but hasn’t had enough sunny days to get it all in yet.
The seasons with their unique characteristics, their unpredictability even in their predictability, have a way of drawing us together and challenging our ever present desire to be in control. They also are chock full of metaphor and beauty if we can pause and see.
On a recent Fall day before the snow flew, I was out with my parents for the routine groceries and errands trip to town. Dad had stopped off to get their cheese at the local cheese house while Mom and I carried on to the pharmacy. There is always the question as to whether the handicap parking spot will be available and thankfully it was on this particular day. We paused, sitting in the car, before getting out, and as we sat there, I observed someone walking towards us wearing distressed jeans. Now, I rather like some mild versions of this distressed look which I’m well aware is a fashion trend. Mom has been known to offer, tongue-in-cheek, to patch my jeans or those of my daughters’ when we show up with frayed rips here and there (she would say “hussa fa flicka”). So, knowing I would get a lovely reaction from her, I asked her to look at the pants that were ripped strategically from the top of the leg to the bottom.
“Ach!”, she laughed,”What is this world coming to?!” There was mirth in her tone as she ruminated on the fashion trend of torn pants and the legalization of marijuana (about to happen the next day).
For someone born in the early 1930s, this spritely woman has seen her share of seasons – both literally and figuratively. She has also seen her share of styles. Paying money for torn jeans would have bordered on the ridiculous (and maybe still does!). Rips and tears were something that required mending and patching which meant extra work. I have memories of Mom even darning the holes in the heel or toe of a sock by sliding a burnt out light bulb (the old style) into it to keep its shape. If left unattended to, rips and tears in clothing would’ve indicated a measure of not looking after one’s things with care.
Styles, trends, and fashion are ever-changing and come and go with the seasons. Hemlines go up, and they go down, and sometimes they do both as in the high-low style that made a rather brief appearance. I recently bought a dress at a second-hand store. One of the selling details for me was the zipper on the back which was sewn to the outside of the dress giving the zipper a pleasing pop. When I sewed most of my dresses, I often used what is called an invisible zipper. The point was, as the name indicates, to make the zipper basically disappear. And if you were really good, you got the seam line of the waist perfectly matched where the zipper passed through them – a detail that would’ve been impressed upon me by my Mom who was and is a meticulous seamstress. But here I was thirty some years later, buying a dress with the zipper sewn purposely to the outside because I liked the look of it. Mom’s somewhat satirical response to these newfangled styles would be along the lines of “Oh, they couldn’t think of anything else”.
Distressed denim, uneven hemlines, very visible zippers – these are all trends in fashion that will have their season before they too line the racks at the thrift stores. Seasons bleed into the next, and we try to keep up and may need to let go of the things that don’t get done before the seasons’ end. Of the seasons of life, Mom always said she enjoyed each one, and emulated as much. May I find that same stance. Take things lightly, stay fluid with the coming and going, and keep a sense of humour cultivated and kind. And always try to remember that what is ripped and in need of mending today, may be high fashion as it is tomorrow.
