Autumn leaves, and red flannel hash stir great memories

As I was walking through Central Park and enjoying the foliage and large trees, just beginning to change into their gowns for what is clearly their season, I could hear Nat King Cole singing, “The Autumn Leaves.” It was one of my father’s favorite songs and we learned most of the lyrics to the songs Cole recorded growing up.

Interestingly, I have learned that “Autumn Leaves” is the English-language version of the French song entitled "Les Feuilles mortes" ("The Dead Leaves") composed by Joseph Kosma in 1945. The English lyrics were written by Johnny Mercer, and “Autumn Leaves” has become a jazz standard and interestingly one of songs most recorded by jazz musicians.

How can anyone live in a place without seasons? Without the splendid and glorious autumn, the white, still and silent winter, the muddy spring with its early blossoms and of course the warmth and fickle charm of the summer months.

Our diets and desires shift with the seasons. So, not only did I hear Nat King Cole walking through the park, but I could also taste my Grampa Howards’ red flannel hash. I recalled something I had written a few years ago and wanted to share it:

“As a young child I was fortunate to be able to spend hours with my ‘Grammie’ and ‘Grampa’ Howard. It was Grammie Howard who had the patience to teach me how to sew and let me spend afternoons with her at the library, where she worked a few days during the week.

Grampa Howard loved to cook. Just as he loved to enjoy feasting on what he had prepared. One of our autumn traditions was going to their home for a New England boiled dinner of corn beef, boiled potato, cabbage and carrots. Grampa always made it clear that while he loved the dinner, it was really the hash he prepared the next morning that he most enjoyed. Occasionally we were there when he attached a heavy medal grinder to the table and pushed through the meat and vegetables. He served the hash with a soft-boiled egg.”

Just thinking about these dinners reminded me of fall drives in New Hampshire as we drove along roads, past exquisite old farmhouses and rolling hills. It sent my mind back to our childhood, growing up in the White Mountains and being part of a friendly and gracious community.

Enjoying a New England boiled dinner connects the past to the present. The big world spins, innovation, evolution and technology have transformed the way we live, work and communicate; yet there will always be those occasions when, for just a few minutes, the clock stops. I have never cooked a New England boiled dinner — perhaps a project for the last weekend in October.

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Elizabeth Howard is the host of the Short Fuse Podcast, found on Spotify, Apple Podcasts or through the Arts Fuse. Her career intersects journalism, marketing, and communications. “Ned O’Gorman: A Glance Back,” a book she edited, was published in May 2016. She is the author of “A Day with Bonefish Joe,” a children’s book, published by David R. Godine. You can send her a note at: eh@elizabethhoward.com.