Tag Archive for: fall

Falling for Fall

Fall is stirring. Sure, the temperature still hovers in the upper 80s, but the annuals are leggy and the odd leaf drifts to the ground.

I’ve always loved September and October. In Kansas City, they are months of pleasant temperatures, reduced humidity, and blue skies. There’s football and boots. There are chili dinners and pumpkin spice (I’m not in love, but I appear to be alone in that). There’s front-porch sitting and hot apple cider. There are long walks to take, leaves to rake, a mums to plant.

This fall will be spent writing Ellison’s latest adventure. I envision curling on the chaise on the front porch with a plaid blanket wrapped around my legs and a laptop open. Of course words will flow like water.

Also, Poppy will face a new villain in London (more on that in October).
My fall calendar is full. Now, if someone would just give summer the boot…

Julie Mulhern is the USA Today bestselling author of The Country Club Murders and the Poppy Fields Adventures. 

She is a Kansas City native who grew up on a steady diet of Agatha Christie. She spends her spare time whipping up gourmet meals for her family, working out at the gym and finding new ways to keep her house spotlessly clean–and she’s got an active imagination. Truth is–she’s an expert at calling for take-out, she grumbles about walking the dog and the dust bunnies under the bed have grown into dust lions.

Action, adventure, mystery, and humor are the things Julie loves when she’s reading. She loves them even more when she’s writing!


By Dru Ann Love

One of the things I love about living on the East Coast is we get to celebrate all four seasons. My favorite are Spring and Fall. It’s not too hot like Summer and it’s not too cold like Winter. Spring and Fall seasons give you the nice in between.

What I like most about Fall is the changing of the leaves. A walk in the part will have you staring at the lovely colorful leaves as they fall to the ground. When I was younger, I loved when they were all gathered in a pile and we got to jump smack dab in the middle of it. Did you do that as a youngster? Could I do that now, no way, first I couldn’t jump in in and second I would not be able to get up. But I do remember the freedom it gave me.

Fall is also good weather to sit in a chair, wrapped in a blanket and read the next scintillating mystery that have you in goose bumps, especially if it’s the latest thriller set at Halloween.

Speaking of Fall, there’s the two holidays: Halloween where there is no excuse for eating that Snicker bar, that Hershey kiss, that Dove bar, that jawbreaker (yeah, like that’s going to happen), that tootsie roll pop and especially Brach’s candy corn (accept no substitution, because Brach’s is the best). Best of all, you can also dress anyway you want and not be criticize…a mummy, sure; a superhero, sure; a Agatha Christie, solve that puzzle; a zombie, go for it; you can be anybody and have you fill of it.

Then there is Thanksgiving where you are given permission to eat all the food that the dieticians and/or nutritionist say you shouldn’t eat during the rest of the year. Want that turkey leg? Have at it. Want a thick slab of baked ham? Go for it. Want some dressing with gravy? Pour it over your food. Some macaroni salad? Put that scoop on your plate. Rice? Yep. Collard Greens? Put it right next to the white rice. Cranberry Sauce? Put it in that spot, right there. Candied Yams? Make sure to give me a slice of that pineapple. Baked macaroni and cheese? You betcha.

Then there’s dessert. Apple pie? Slice it up, please. Yellow cake with chocolate frosting? A thin slice, please. I don’t know where I have the room to eat it. Ice Cream? Right between my pie and cake. And don’t forget the pumpkin pie to go with my cup of hot beverage. And then Thanksgiving is over and now I can sleep for a week.

What’s your favorite thing about Fall?

Laura Spinella


Every season has its cues. Not necessarily the weather ones, though when you live in the Northeast they’re hard to ignore. Just when we’ve acclimated to leaves on trees and short-wearing weather, things start to change. Yesterday, in barely mid-August, I saw a maple tree with a tint of red while an evening chill had me digging in a drawer for sweatpants. The North, maybe New England in particular, also comes with strong sporting cues. It’s definitely a sign of the season when the Fenway Faithful prepare to make way for a rush of fall football, due to arrive in full Patriots gear. In the North, we also like to combine history with sports, mixing it into metaphors whenever possible.

Without a doubt, school is the big signal that the times they are a changin’. The South is known for its wicked early starts. My sister, who teaches first grade, has been back to class for a week. I suppose it evens out, as she’s sipping wine coolers poolside before Memorial Day weekend. But being Northern bred, I’ve never been able to adapt to the notion. It’s not unlike the like the holidays. I love the South, I truly do, but palm trees will never inspire me to break out the mistletoe or even the first verse of White Christmas—though I believe that’s in reference to the L.A. variety, but you get the idea. Regular school doesn’t start here for a few weeks, but yesterday I sent a kid packing back to college. She, of course, attends a Southern university. Having her around for another week or two would have been okay with me, though she did remark that good writing was just around the corner. “You know, Mom, you always do your best writing after Labor Day.”

I thought about that for a while, and I think she’s right. Early fall brings lots of inspiration; maybe it’s the chill in the air or a guaranteed rainy day each week. I drag in the summer, never really craving that umbilical cord attachment to a laptop that I do during other times of the year. So I suppose I’ll be reading the signs before long, revving up for lots of cool weather writing. However, it’s not completely without distractions. My Sox are looking pretty hot, which could mean being waylaid by a World Series. An incredible sacrifice, but one I’d happily make. And, oh, there is the aftermath of the kid who left the building, though she certainly had no qualms about leaving her mess behind. Real writing will be delayed as I transform her bedroom into something habitable, spending at least half a day finding the floor. Over the summer, she’d gotten into a habit of lying on her bed with her feet pressed to the wall. The day before she left, I asked if she planned on cleaning the footprints that marked her presence. I got the cursory shrug and a rolling of eyes. Not long after she and her father headed south, car packed to gills, I poked my head inside her room. I still couldn’t find the floor. Adding insult to injury, her brother decided to drag his mattress in and have a sleepover the night before. A pile of clothes and pocketbooks, things she deemed too last year to make the trip were everywhere. But taped to the wall, right by the footprints, was a scrap of paper. It read: JAMIE WAS HERE. See you on Turkey Day Jay, when the leaves are guaranteed to be gone and you might even be treated to a few flakes of snow. And who knows, by then I might have written something wonderful.