You know, every year about this time, just as the first hint of fall is sneaking around the corner, my memory takes me back to some long ago place.  This time it is taking me to a serene, quiet, sandy piece of ground in my sweet homeland of East Texas. Miles from anywhere – literally – I grew up not realizing we were probably among the most deprived folks around.  Funny thing is, we didn’t know anyone who was any different than we were, so I suppose it is all about one’s perspective.

But what I started out to say is that the other morning I was looking out my dining room windows and noticed that the leaves on one of the trees had turned to a reddish/pumpkin color.  Now, whether the color seemed to appear early because the leaves were begging for water, or it was just their time for them to shed their old garments.  Regardless, for some reason I got to thinking about the black walnut tree in our front yard back in East Texas.  It’s no longer there; I checked a few years ago, but it remains in my memory to this day.

Now, some of you might already be visualizing those yummy walnuts, pecans, etc., all packaged and pretty, that are found in your local supermarkets.  You know, the kind that show up in time for Christmas baking.  I love those!  And, I especially love to dig in the various bins of nuts and scoop up just the amount I want.  Isn’t that fun!  And, since I have a hard time deciding on which ones to buy, I usually go scooping up the mixed nuts.  Perhaps that selection best fits me!  My favorite color is Multi , so now you know why I’m often indecisive and am in love with “all of the above” choices!

But back to the wave of nostalgia I had the other day.  I got to thinking about that tree and how we would gather the walnuts when they began to fall to the ground.  If you’re with me here, these walnuts had a heavy, brownish/black, rather tough, coat or covering around them.  When you had successfully removed that protective layer, you had only just begun the journey to find the sweet meat inside!  I will never forget how my mother would patiently crack those black walnuts with a heavy hammer, exposing the nut meat inside, and slowly pick out the few choice pieces of black walnuts!  It seemed to take forever, but to her I’m sure she was only thinking about the black walnut cake that would soon be baked and enjoyed during the holidays.  Another thing:  she did not live in this age of instant gratification where no one wants to wait for anything.  It’s now or never sometimes.  I’m guilty.  I love everything about semi-homemade, microwaves, instant potatoes, you name it.

But sometimes I think it’s good for us to have to wait for something once in a while.  Don’t you appreciate the end results a lot more?  I think so.  Whether we’re waiting for the tomato plant to take hold in the soil, waiting on a loved one to arrive from who-knows-where, waiting on the hummingbirds to find the sweet nectar we’ve made them, or maybe we’re waiting on the postman to bring a special something we’ve ordered.  (Bill has a story about waiting forever for his secret code ring to arrive in the mail after he had mailed in his Kellog's cereal box tops, plus 50 cents!). It doesn’t really matter what our hopes are set on – it’s just good sometimes to wait.  And be. And give thanks. 

So, there was mama cracking those black walnuts that were hard as concrete and then picking out the actual prize inside.  She would use her tiniest crochet needle as her “weapon of choice" to extract the nutmeat, as I recall.  Or, maybe she had one of those nut picker-outers that everyone seemed to have.  You know the kind.  The “cracker” tool stands up in the middle and the “pickers” fit in the drilled-out holes around the outer part, and the whole thing looks like a slice of wood from some tree.  Y’all had one, too, right?  Somehow we always had an abundance of pickers ... and I don't mean the people pickers!  I think we all one of those outfits gracing our hearths or side tables, but it beats me where ours is right now.  (Organization is not a spiritual gift of mine!)

But you know what?  For some reason, I still head to the store and buy those kinds of English walnuts that are easy to crack - or already cracked.  They will never be as good as those black walnuts, though.  I’m sorry; they just aren’t as sweet.  Could it be that time has sweetened them in my memory?  Perhaps.  Sometimes, rather than wait and crack my own store-bought nuts, I just go for it, and buy the kind of walnuts or pecans that result from some machine that has done all the hard part.  My idea of robotics!  I’m not proud of cheating like this … I’m just sayin’:  Guilty as charged.

So, as you welcome the cool mornings and anticipate the arrival of autumn, of harvests, of preparing festive cakes and pies and all manner of delicacies, try to reflect on your heritage.   I hope you had at least one walnut tree or apple tree or pear tree or fig tree in your past.  I know I did.  You know, I’m not saying it has to be a tree to be the object of your reflection – but I do encourage you to dig back and find that special thing or place or person, that upon reflection, still brings you pleasure when it comes to your mind.  I promise: the cake is worth the wait.  At least, mama’s was.