Taking the path from swirling leaves and mulched gardens to cozy indoor projects

Our autumn, with its glorious colors, swirling leaves and mild weather, has been a gift from the Garden Goddess so far. We can take down our gardens during sunny afternoons, instead of having to bundle up in fleece and gloves to cut down the last of the Canterbury bells or the final heads of broccoli. (Not that I would have any personal experience with broccoli – or any other vegetable plants – producing into October. Mine wimped out in August.) This weekend I'll spread a rich composting mulch over the perennial beds, to give them an extra layer of protection from the chill that could come soon. As I also consider adding an extra blanket to the beds in our house, my thoughts and to-do lists now turn away from the flower and vegetable gardens, toward domestic plans indoors. It's time to decorate our home and front porch for autumn and put a lighted pumpkin in the window for the trick-or-treaters who ring our doorbell on Halloween night.

Next (and soon) I'll finish writing the script for this year's Christmas pageant, featuring the children and teenagers of my church and wider community. Time to schedule rehearsals and feel my smile widen every time the cast gathers, giggling, asking questions, running lines, and adding their own sparkle to the dialogue I've written to reflect each actor's special gifts. On a parallel track, I'll start my holiday lists, beginning with Thanksgiving. Last year, our two adult children took over all the cooking for our family's turkey dinner, because they wanted me to rest after very minor skin cancer surgery. Our son and daughter divided the cooking and created a marvelous meal that combined family favorites with some new recipes. This year our daughter will host again, but I'm also reclaiming my apron, because we Italian mamas have a hard time remaining seated – or staying out of the kitchen – for very long.

Autumn is a quicksilver season. Its maple and oak trees can glow with beauty one day, and a fierce wind can leave them standing, stark and bare, the next. Our menagerie is celebrating the season by bringing mementos inside for my husband and me to enjoy (or vacuum away.) Rags, our Old English sheepdog, habitually carries in clumps of dry leaves that cling to his big paws, and he often sports a small, red or gold maple leaf on his nose or dangling from a shaggy ear. All three cats, Tessa the Vague, Abigail Grump, and the one and only Benjamin BadKitten, track in bits of mulch, leaves, and, unfortunately, an occasional mouse or bird. Abigail's favorite place to observe the autumn world is in a small, compost-filled planter on our patio. She looks like a black and white hen, setting her eggs, with her paws tucked beneath her. It won't be long, I remind myself, that our furry family members will be housebound, braving the cold outdoors only for personal hygiene. And I will smile at them as I sit in my favorite chair, with my book on my lap and a mug of hot tea beside me.