A Genuine Case of Autumn at the Greenwich Historical Society's Fall Festival

It was love at first sight when I arrived at the Greenwich Historical Society's 
Fall Festival and Scarecrow Competition. 

Oh, to be home for autumn -and what timing, too! 

The skies that Sunday morning were balmy and blue. With hardly a cloud in sight, I arrived at the Greenwich Historical Society's Bush Holley House campus. The Society was holding its Fall Festival and Scarecrow Competition. 

I could not have imagined a more perfect day to savor the season's textured flavors, so rich in golds, reds and yellows that the New England states here in the USA are renowned for. 

One of the truths I hold to be self-evident is that Halloween is fun. With tinges and teases of golds and reds anticipating the coming of New England's autumn foliage displays, it is all a reminder that ours is a special and pretty place. 

History and autumnal authenticity provided families with a festive time at 
Greenwich's historic Bush Holley House. 

What is it that is so special about autumn festivals here in Connecticut? You'd think that as a native son I'd have a ready answer to that question. Had I been in the Asia-Pacific too long, you ask? 

One thing I have observed and learned about people in my travels is that we are much more similar than we give ourselves credit for. A lot of it has to do with tradition. Here I was in a place my family have called home for over three centuries. We were immersed in an historic setting that has stood the test of time and circumstance. The sun that day was benevolent. The trees had not yet turned color, but I could see faint tinges of red and yellow that would foreshadow the changing of the seasons. 

As I walked around the grounds, smiling and greeting families as well as old and new friends it dawned on me -again- that history is not just what was, but also what will be. Will the children and their parents reminisce about their experience that day? I suspect so.

I deemed this one the official greeter-scarecrow, who pointed us to apple cider and goodies. 

Silently grinning and comical in demeanor, we were greeted by a small battalion of scarecrows. This year's festival featured a menagerie of imaginative scarecrows all competing for first-prize in competition. These were all submitted by children in the community. To say the least I was impressed by the imaginations of the children who created these, many of whom were on hand. 

This is the first time I'd seen a Viking scarecrow. 

Such a warm smile!

Trays of seasonal goodies that mimicked the autumnal colors were very pleasing to the eye. 

These cookies were a special favorite with the children, many of whom had entered the scarecrow competition. 

These mini-cupcakes took good care of my daily chocolate fix. 

Autumn splendor. 

That's the historic Bush Holley House in the background. For years it was a boarding house for railroad workers before it became one for American Impressionist artists. Today's gathering would have fit perfectly with the "Bohemia at its best" festive atmosphere found on the back lawn and near the Victory Garden. 

This was the first Darth Vader scarecrow I had ever seen. It looks like 'The Force' is with him! 

We New Englanders are known for our patriotism and individuality. Is bold pink the new autumnal orange? Time will tell.

When I grew up here hayrides were part and parcel with any autumn festival. Sam Bridge Nursery and Greenhouses provided a vintage fire-engine red tractor and matching wagon. Young and old alike alighted aboard for a trip down Strickland Road, a marvelous stretch of historic houses in the Village of Cos Cob. 

That is one bright, red tractor! No, they would not let me drive -though I have prior experience. The hayride through the Strickland Road Historic District was a huge hit with festival attendees. 

No reservations or assigned seating! Everyone just piled in for our tour of the historic district. 

Yes, that is me flashing a Hawaiian-style 'shaka' sign, signaling to all that I was hanging 
loose and having fun. 

No first-class or business class seating here. Our docent educated and entertained us with fun facts and stories of the Strickland Road Historic District. 

The Cos Cob Historic District on Strickland Road is only minutes from the center of town and from the Metro-North Train Station. After I introduced myself to Gail, our hayward docent and guide, quickly seized upon my knowledge of the community's history. I enjoyed sharing historical stories and fun-facts about immaculate landscapes and the nearby Mill Pond, a place near and dear to our family since the 17th century. 

We were surrounded by an assortment of New England homes that represented the various moods and tastes of their original owners and those who preserve them in the 21st century. 

How blissful and delightful it was under balmy blue skies! Young and the young-at-heart took in historic settings and architectural styles. We conversed, laughed and anticipated the coming explosion of autumn foliage when bright colors and the best of Nature's portraits come alive before Winter's snowy slumber. 

This is the Captain Wilmot House, built in the early 19th century circa 1820. 

The Amos Mead Brush House is a favorite of mine. It was built in 1869 with a French-styled mansard roof and Federalist embellishments, such as the carved eagle above the front door. One of the interesting stories I heard was about a group of sisters who were performers that called this place home. 

The Judge George Brush House was built circa 1850. It serves at the Greenwich Historical Society's executive director's residence next door to Bush Holley House. 

This, of course, is the venerated Bush Holley House, headquarters of the Greenwich Historical Society. The original section on the left was built in the 17th century built by Dutch settlers whose family name was 'Bosch,' but changed to 'Bush.' It is open to the public for tours. I am a descendant of the Smith and Page families. They operated this place as a boarding and rooming house, including railroad workers. The Smith's were responsible for the tall French windows and double porches. Later this place would become the first American Impressionist art colony in the USA. It is on the National Register of Historic Places. 

I tend to think that we take for granted just how lucky we are. On the eve of the prettiest time in America's New England states, the days are mostly warm with crisp, cooler nights with twinkling stars to add magic and illumination to the night sky. Progressively shorter days trigger the turning of the leaves with various trees displaying varying colors.

Autumn here flows like the many steams and brooks that snake their courses through the hills. It is a time when there is an uncommon energy. There are multitudes of country fairs, farm stands selling fresh produce, apple picking and foliage watching. 

Don't get me wrong when I say that there is a quiet side that holds a certain appeal for me. Picture yourself meandering under blue skies, along age-old byways framed in by old homes and maples, all singing together an invisible symphony. It's further magnified by the reflections of red and golden foliage along the shoreline like a shimmering mirror. There is a stirring in the air in the smiles of one's neighbors. It is something for us that we hold auspicious and harmonious with the inevitable changing of the seasons. 

On this day we were all reminded that we could look forward to plenty of bright, sun-filled days. But as we now all too well that nothing good lasts forever. 

All in all, the Fall Festival was a golden opportunity to celebrate all that is truly best and bright in my ancestral home.