Loose Ends
PC time
Susan Nienow

It's the crispness in the air that energizes me every fall. I want to put away the remnants of summer and bring out the fall décor.

My summer tablecloths and placemats can be moved to the back of the pantry. Actually, I don't have any summer tablecloths or placemats. But, if I did, it would be time to put them away.

The arrangement of nasturtiums goes up in the attic. No one has asked me if they are real for several months. And the magnolia blossoms in the front hall don't look live, either.

My other half calls this my "PC" season - pine cones - of any size. They are some of my favorite things. One fall I learned how to bleach them. My son came home from school one day and said, "Mom! The whole yard smells like bleach. What did you do?"

When I explained that I was bleaching pine cones, he gave me that look that only teenagers can. The message was clear: "You're nuts."

I also painted some blue, and the basket of pine cones was a success. I baked the natural ones in the oven. I read somewhere that baking them killed the insects that might have laid eggs in them. The house smelled a bit like something larger than an insect died, but the odor only lasted for a few days.

One December I dipped pine cones in melted wax from crayons to make fire starters. I think the family would rather have had Christmas cookies.

Just a few years ago, we pulled up to a gas station and while I was sitting in the car waiting for my other half to pump gas, I spotted a row of six-foot evergreens with little pinecones on them. I jumped out of the car and went over to the trees and started stuffing my coat pockets.

When my other half realized what I was doing, he drove over and said, "Get in." It started to feel like a Bonnie and Clyde rerun. I showed him my treasures, but he really wasn't impressed.

Every time my other half cleans the garage, we have another PC discussion. Apparently, I have three large lawn and leaf bags of pine cones stored in the garage, and they are taking up valuable space. I told him they are valuable.

This is where the discussion takes on a new dimension. If I stored these pine cones on my side of the closet, that would be acceptable. But since they are in his garage, it isn't.

He also had some suggestions for the ones in the house. The basket of pine cones in the corner of the front hall has been there for three years now. "It's time to declare them dead and move on. The same goes for the ones in the bedroom hall," he said.

I guess I won't tell him about the new bag of acorns on the screened porch. Or the lichens I picked up in the woods that I am drying for craft work.