Suddenly September’s almost over — where’d it go?
I love fall, even though I have to be dragged into it kicking and screaming at first. I cringe to think summer’s over.
But autumn arrives. Leaves fall from trees clothed in brilliant hues, geese fly in V’s overhead, and there are taters and pumpkins and scarecrows — oh, my.
Along with cooler, crisp mornings and crunching leaves, though — brace yourselves — Houlton Farms has closed for the season.
Come on, admit it. You indulged, too, standing in line while trying to decide: shake or ice cream? What kind of cone? Parfait or sundae? Black raspberry or coffee? Sauce? Nuts? Sooo many choices.
What’s fun is to watch everyone unplugged, just enjoying the moment.
Kids run around the picnic tables on the side lawn, lighting long enough for a lick and then dashing off, laughing. Parents grasp treats with young ones in tow, patiently waiting to grab a bite themselves. Dogs hang their heads out of car windows, lapping up the excitement when their people come back with a doggy sundae. Family and friends gather, chatting with acquaintances they maybe haven’t seen since last year in line.
(Courtesy of Metro Creative Graphics)
It came to me one warm weekend day, as I lopped off the peaked dollop atop my cone, that ice cream is the great equalizer.
From 2 to 92, dressed up or dressed down, in big groups or just one at a time, everybody’s the same when we line up for ice cream. We stand in lines three abreast, gazing up at the choices like kids at a candy smorgasbord. We change our minds a dozen times when we see what other people walk away with, but finally we decide, take our treasure and, eyes wide, savor each cooling mouthful.
Ice cream gives us license to be kids again. And we look like it, licking a cone with abandon or glopping sauce onto our shirts. And if you’re a kid, ice cream lets you be — well, an excited kid.
It’s sort of like what those urban “high-end” restaurants claim to offer: the experience. I’ve been to a couple of those, where for a day’s pay, grinning people shuffled us through what they excitedly declared a “gastronomical adventure.” We decoded which of four forks to use and waitstaff added and subtracted plates in a confusing dance, all for a meal of two lettuce leaves, a half-dollar-sized chicken medallion and three green beans.
Nah.
Here at the ice cream counter, for 2 bucks, you can come as you are, share some smiles and enjoy a gourmet delight just the same.
We keep it simple in The County — but until next year, you’ll have to find another way to get the scoop.
