Autumn has always been my favorite season.  As a child it meant apple picking, apple cider doughnuts, and pumpkins!  Pumpkin selecting, pumpkin carving, pumpkin seeds, and pumpkin pie.  Every year we made a little trek into "the country" to pick out our pumpkins at a farm stand.  We hauled them home to the suburbs for all the ways we enjoyed them.  It was looked forward to, even as teens, and served as a sure sign of the season.

While there's plenty of country, farms, and farm stands to be found in Washington, Little N and I are urban dwellers these days.  And kiddo doesn't take much delight in long drives to unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people, sounds, and smells.  So we took the city-dwellers' approach and I picked up a couple of orange beauties at the grocery store next door to our apartment.  We invited a friend over and commenced carving.  

Little N wanted a "happy" pumpkin, so Miss A delighted him by carving exactly what he had drawn for her.  I went for a spookier approach, which also allows allows a lot of candle light to shine through, and cut a cyclops from my pumpkin.  Kiddo does not like my creepy monster and sequesters it to a different part of our deck, away from his happy creation. 

From a Pagan perspective this season, like each season, holds sacred meaning.  By now we've noticed the days getting shorter, the darkness enfolding us, and in Seattle the cold and rain have started.  We inhabit more time indoors.  We reach for creature comforts of hot beverages and hardy foods.  We are embracing the darkness as best we can and listening for the messages it offers.  It's a time for composting that which doesn't serve us, as well as the dreams that have not come to fruition in the time we granted them.  New life will be cultivated from their detritus in another season.  It's a time for giving thanks for what we have received and that which we have learned.  Our lives are stronger and more vibrant for these things.  It's a time for drawing near to the folks we love.  We are all connected.  

Little N doesn't really understand seasons yet.  He is puzzled by our dark mornings as I rustle him up for school.  He plays out on the deck in dark evenings within the glow of the overhead lights.  I don't know if that's due to being a child who hasn't seen as many seasons change as I have, or if it's related to his Autism and not perceiving sequences.  I'm hopeful that his comprehension and appreciation will develop as he grows up.  To that end, I have the job and the joy of sharing what I perceive in each season.  I'm trying to become more intentional in my parenting around this topic and Autumn calls me to it more than any other season.  I string little twinkle lights up in our apartment to warm the darkness of our evenings.  I make a place on my altar to host the photos of our Beloved Dead, his grandfathers.  They have a special place in our hearts and minds at this time of year (more on that and Samhain coming soon).

I want Little N to perceive the turning of our little blue planet in our solar system, in our galaxy, in our universe!  Our lives are tiny, precious, and changing with our own seasons in this magnificent space.  We humans are all connected to each other in various ways and I wonder how to teach him about that as well.  I want Little N to experience connection to traditions I grew up with as a link to a family he is part of, a family that loves him, but who he barely knows, rarely sees.  I want Little N to be familiar with the emotional and material meanings of entering the dark.  We needn't fear or dread the darkness.  We can work with and within this season.  I want Little N to deeply know all of these things and have fun living with it!

So I drag home the pumpkins from the grocery store.  We carve them and giggle over the slimy orange goo we pull out of them.  We light them and watch the candlelight flicker inside of them.  I plug in the twinkle lights.  I make room on my altar for the grandfathers.  And I try to draw Little N's little-boy-attention to the darkness and what it can offer.  

We've been telling Little N that he has to "try again" with Summer Camp.  After Friday's success in the new group, he came home happy, proud, and full of energy.  "I tried again!" he raced to tell me when I got home from work.  Then he proceeded to pounce on me and jump around the living room.  

Last night he started to get anxious again, but we reminded him that he was going to the new group and that he has a friend there.  

This morning, his dad dropped him off - with no problems.  Little N found his friend.  He called to his dad, "Bye!" and then turned to his friend.  "Well, it's just you and me."  

Poor Little N.  I signed him up for Summer Camp for his Summer child care.  I talked to the director of the program and it sounded like a match.  It's not.  Kiddo hates it and cries and fusses every night and morning in anticipation of another day at camp.  

Little N says it's too loud, even with his ear muffs on.  His dad has witnessed the classroom and describes it as disorderly and undisciplined.  All of kiddo's Autism triggers are being hit.  Noise, chaos, unpredictable behavior.  More than a challenging transition to something new, it's a full offense on his sensitivities.  

Today, we're trying something new.  Little N's dad went with him to drop off, as usual, but now is getting kiddo moved into a new classroom of slightly older kids.  These children are kindergarten and first graders and are a little more mature.  They already know how to behave in a classroom setting.  Plus, this group has a teacher trained to work with children on the Spectrum.  So far, this morning, Little N is participating, making friends, and playing with the group.  He's still got his ear muffs on and his dad remains hovering in the background.  But we're optimistic.  Fingers crossed that Little N can do the same on Monday, when his dad drops him off and heads out.