It’s Emma Peel Time

The calendar tells us — and our temperatures confirm — that autumn has arrived here in the Valley.  Of all our seasons — autumn is our Emma Peel.  The most beautiful.

If you’re not familiar with Emma — I invite you to Google “The Avengers” TV show from the 1960’s. The lovely Emma — played wonderfully by Diana Rigg — teamed with the handsome and debonair John Steed (Patrick Macnee) to form the most dynamic and attractive TV couple I had ever seen. Each week, they worked, as secret agents, to save Great Britain from a variety of increasingly outrageous fiends.

The plots were crazy and funny.  Steed and Peel were compelling and classy — Steed, the quintessential English gentleman with his bowler hat and umbrella (both of which he often used to great effect against the bad guys) — and Emma, the very, very modern English woman. Their TV show — imported, yes, from Britain — became a smash hit here on ABC-TV.

And every young man at Fresno High — including me — was infatuated with Emma.  She was my first TV love — and Steed and Peel became my favorite video “couple,” to be matched only — decades later — by Rick and Kate (Nathan Fillion and Stana Katic) on the “Castle” comedy-mystery series.

But where were we?  Oh, yes.  Autumn.  We finally got here, after another long, hot summer in the Valley.  We had 36 days above 100 degrees around these parts — not a record for us, by any means, but still too warm for comfort.  And certainly, what we endured was no match for the horrible heat they had to survive in Phoenix — 111 days over 100 degrees — 54 of them, 110 or above.  Dreadful.

But to everything there is a season.  Turn! Turn! Turn!  Even in the Valley of the Sun in Arizona, and, yes, even in our own San Joaquin Valley.

So now, our mornings are a bit chilly. Where just a few weeks ago, I got up before sunrise to walk — in order to beat the sure-to-come heat that would envelop us by late morning — now I’m waiting until the sun pops up — and even then, I’m starting to wear long-sleeve pull-overs or sweatshirts to go along with my walking shorts.

Yes, our mornings are crisper — and our blue sky is much clearer.  Autumn, indeed.

As for our trees — believe it or not, we have a few species that delight in showing off their autumn colors. Not to the extent, of course, that the lucky folks in New England or the Upper Midwest get to see this time of year.  But our crepe myrtles are showing off the last of their late-summer colors — and our Chinese pistache trees, along with our Bradford flowering pears and maples — will soon get to exhibit their fine hues.

And just a few miles away — in the foothills leading to the Sierra — groves of aspens and oaks and maples will shine their spectacular colors for any leaf-peepers who venture up their way. And — as an added bonus — many of our creeks and rivers in the mountains are still flowing — along with some neat waterfalls — because of the powerful winter — and all that snow — we had. Wonderful weekend treks, indeed.

But fall is about much more than pretty trees. For one thing — this is the time of year when Friday night lights shine in so many communities up and down Highway 99.  Friday night football in our numerous small towns is a very big deal, to be sure. It’s not unknown for kids to grow up in our Selmas and Sangers and Kingsburgs and Fowlers — play football — and become heroes in their communities, forever.

Saturday night football in autumn in our Valley sees teams from several community colleges take the field — but the big deal — the honcho — of college football around these parts is Fresno State.  The Bulldogs play in the Mountain West Conference — not nearly as big or important as the Pac-12 or the Big 10 or the Big 12 — but the Dogs are still a Division 1 program — and they often rise to the occasion against much bigger and richer football programs.

Just ask Purdue of the Big 10 or Arizona State of the Pac-12 about the Bulldogs this year.  Yes, they’ve both lost to Our Team.

Autumn is also about “reconnecting” with things that bring us comfort.  Sweatshirts and sweaters.  Hot chocolate. And, yes, pumpkins. Lots of us buy big pumpkins — either at Costco or Target or at one of the numerous pumpkin patches around here — and proudly display them on our front porches from the end of September to mid-November.

Yes, we’ve already bought ours — and they’re temporarily resting in our backyard.  Soon enough, the whole world — at least, that part of the world that walks in front of our home — will get to see them.

One of the things I truly miss about autumn in the Valley is the smoke.  Yes, the smoke. The smell of burning leaves — or the smell of smoke from a fireplace — was one of those childhood experiences I’ve never forgotten, no matter how old I get. Dad and I used to go out on Friday or Saturday nights to rake the leaves from the five sycamores we had in the parking strips of our corner house in Fresno.

We’d rake those leaves into giant piles — then light them on fire.  Oh, how beautiful it was — seeing leaves burning on a chilly autumn night — and smelling that smoke.  Of course, we never knew — or thought — that we were helping create the smog that eventually choked our Valley.  After all, everyone else was burning their leaves, as well.

Now, burning — of leaves, and in fireplaces — is mostly banned.  I know it’s for the best — but I wish our children had had the chance to see and feel and smell the glories of raking and burning leaves on autumn evenings.

And let’s not forget that autumn is the gateway to those end-of-the-year holidays I’ve loved all my life — starting, yes, with Halloween. I did my share of trick-or-treating “back in the day” — but, of course, that lasted only a few years.  Now — I delight in providing Halloween goodies to children who still dress up — like we did — and still knock on doors and ring doorbells — like we did — on that one special night of the year.

And, of course, after Halloween — and rather rapidly, at that — come Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year’s.  I have great memories of Thanksgiving and Christmas lunches my parents hosted for years at our Fresno place for my grandmothers and Uncle Jerry.

I still have black-and-white photos of a couple of those gatherings — and they’re priceless memories of my family — especially now, when I’m the last person in those photos who is still alive.

Summer’s end.  Two words we’ve been waiting for.  And, yes, there were times back in June, July and August, when I wished we’d hurry and get here.  But we’ve made it.

Good bye, summer.  Emma Peel is here now.