Wendy's Cherry Farm

In Greek mythology, the story of how the omnipresent, chauvinist, rules with a golden fist god came to be has trickled down throughout generations, across living rooms, and onto the pages of young adult fantasy novels. As Rhea’s final child and the youngest of six divine children, Zeus was able to escape his father’s bad habit of swallowing his children whole thanks to his mother’s quick wits. Sent away to the remote island of Crete far from Cronus’s cannibalistic tendencies, Zeus was raised by Almathea the goat in place of his celestial kin. His unique disposition was revealed when he accidentally broke Amalthea’s horn, and what would typically be a playful mistake manifested into a never ending abundance of nourishment. 

Every year, I’ve noticed a phenomenon that seems to plague every single department store. Not a single TJ MaXX, Michaels, Dollar Tree, or Kohls is spared from what seems to be the invisible hand of holiday transitory periods—the  3 week gap between Halloween and Thanksgiving. The end of Thanksgiving is warmly welcomed by the “winter wonderland”—-concentrated gourmand aromas covered in blue iridescent glitter residue from cheap sparkly snowflakes. The end of Halloween, however, invites something much more harrowing—something I have dubbed the farce of fall festivities.

Now what does this farce entail? Exactly what you and I and everyone else has suffered from year after year while relishing in the kitschy clutter of a HomeGoods aisle—the celebration of fall as some kind of established holiday. Yes, the same phenomenon occurs during winter, but western culture has so stubbornly interwoven winter with Christmas that it is almost impossible to isolate the two. The celebration of winter has thus become synonymous with light up reindeer noses and mall santas—although there exists a significant non Christian population, almost everyone still partakes in secularized holiday traditions. The hegemony of Christmas is virtually inescapable, permeating through all avenues of common life. Fall, however, carries no strong cultural implication—its aestheticized consumption being limited to colorful leaf imagery and christian girl autumn. It also has no strong ties to any holiday in particular—after all, its only linking factor to Halloween is the pumpkin, and even then, the orange gourd is mangled and mutilated for every heterosexual man’s favorite holiday. 

However, I have noticed a hidden yet obvious motif (aside from infinity scarves and lipstick residue on starbucks cups): the cornucopia. Cast aside, but brought back every season without fail. In a way, it’s quite sad—such an integral part of Greek mythology, yet no one really knows what it is or why it’s there. The cornucopia and its associated meanings commonly serve as symbolic references to prosperous and bountiful yields during harvest. Although I, as well as many others, do not live particularly agrarian lifestyles, the cornucopia is nevertheless a simple yet relevant philosophical framework we can all adopt—developing your mindset to one that is in a state of fulfillment rather than constantly seeking to fulfill. There is nothing wrong with ambition or setting goals, but I’ve found that exceedingly tunnel visioning often leads to forgetting about what and who makes this ambition possible in the first place. 

So as my diet has switched to exclusively pumpkin cream cold foam and I welcome the sensation of sugar clouds dissipating in my palate, I am once again reminded of the sweetness of beautiful people and the cornucopia of existence. I owe every single development in my personhood to the individuals that have either gently nudged me or catapulted me, sometimes met with reluctance, other times entirely against my will. But I am grateful, endlessly and irrevocably, for being able to share a table with the people who have so graciously entered my life. As we all share plates from each other’s uniquely curated life stories and savor the flavors from yet another bountiful harvest, let us break off a piece of our story and butter it liberally and evenly. Share it with those who you hold dear. Wipe the corners of their mouths with care, cognizant of the delicateness of their lips yet vigilant to not leave a single crumb behind. Chew with care, swallow, and let us nourish and be nourished by the cornucopia that fills the limitless space in all of our hearts.