On Account of the Trees

Fall is here. The calendar may not say so, but the trees tell another story. Slowly but surely, they are going through the change. A few golden leaves here. A flame-colored branch there. Now the sun has taken on a more golden hue and the air has a crispness that smells like ice and campfires. When I think of fall, I think of trees. And lately, when I think of trees, the phrase "on account of the trees" pops into my head.

No, I am not hearing voices. I'm remembering a conversation overheard in the ladies room this summer at a rest stop in Wisconsin. I was in my stall, minding my own business, when I realized that 2 other women in the bathroom were having a very interesting conversation. I don't think they knew each other, except maybe from a tour bus that they were sharing. We'll call them Matilda and Becky. They were talking about crickets. Apparently there were some in the bathroom. Matilda, in a thick Missouri accent (I know it was Missouri because she told the other woman where she was from) was telling Becky about the many crickets she encounters when at home. Becky, who sounded like she was probably somewhere from the Midwest, thought this was unusual. Apparently she is not the cricket aficionado that Matilda is. She gave a nervous laugh when Matilda, from her stall, mentioned that there were 3 big crickets in there with her. Matilda pointed out that the crickets in the area were probably prevalent (and infiltrating the bathroom, no less) "on account of the trees."

Meanwhile, I was furiously scanning the floor for crickets that were just waiting to jump on me. At the same time, I loved that Matilda said "on account of" instead of "because of." This is not something I get to hear every day, and I thought is was hilarious. Thinking about crickets also led me to remember being traumatized by them as a child, which is hilarious now, but wasn't at the time. The family cat would bring them in the house to play with and they would get away from her. They would then proceed to hide until you forgot about them. Then, they would jump on you as you walked by. Screaming would ensue. Once, a cricket got under my closed bedroom door at night and chirped its way across my room. I lay frozen in my bed calling helplessly for my mother (who could not hear me through the closed door) to rescue me from the cricket. I was afraid to get out of bed, lest I step on the cricket with my bare foot or be otherwise attacked by it. Luckily, I wasn't, and I somehow managed to live through the experience.

But, I digress: Back to the trees. Ever since hearing Matilda say "on account of the trees," I realized that much does depend on the trees. When we hit Vermont this summer, which is known as the Green Mountain State, it was indeed very green and wonderful. You know why? On account of the trees. Then we entered Massachusetts and I almost didn't recognize it, having only been here in February and April. Know why I didn't recognize it? On account of the trees. In summer they are a lush green contrast to the naked trees of winter and early spring that I had seen before.

And now, it's fall. And I know this on account of the trees. Thank you, Matilda.