Oh my, all the heat-lovers will be mourning the loss of August, but we fall-lovers are rejoicing!
Cooler weather also means shorter days, so there’s that.
But speaking personally, my whole mood shifts. Cooler air means no more humidity, and nobody will argue with that. No more frizzy unmanageable hair. No more sticking to the floor. No more three showers a day.
Soap makers like me can get back to business, since dampness and humidity are our mortal enemies. New recipes to try, new molds that collected dust all summer will be dragged out, washed and lined for product. Trial and error, and then there’s the tried and true that keep on selling.
Another season just around the corner (shhhhh, it’s Christmas, but don’t tell those aforementioned heat-lovers….) means wonderful scents and colors and Etsy Markets and local craft shows and all manner of creative fun.
Today, my day job wins out but I will be picking wild chokecherries to feed my other habit, homemaking. This will be a new one for me, as I’ve never even really seen chokecherries before, but I’m intrigued. I absolutely love all aspects of fall preserving, from washing and sterilizing my jars to picking, washing, simmering, pouring, cooling and tasting. And that satisfying snap! when the Mason jars seal, well that’s simply empowering.
A lot of people wonder why I’ve called my business “Black Rafter SoapWorks” and I’ve always given a short answer. So here’s a longer version. After serving in World War 2, my father returned home from Europe and at the age of 21, was trying to find his place in the world. He was a mechanic by trade, found a job, got married, and I was his first born. He loved music, and decided to build a dance hall for local entertainment, and after serving in the war, I’m sure it was somewhat cathartic. These pictures of the hall are all I can find but they bring back such memories for me, this was my play house as a child. It was named “The Seaside Dance Hall” but as with a lot of things in those days, someone gave it a nickname, “The Black Rafter” in this case, and it stuck.
My father died shortly after the dance hall was built, I was only 4 years old, but I always liked the sound of The Black Rafter, as I would overhear grown ups talk about it, and when I got around to it, I bought the name.
So that’s my story, I’m sticking to it, I still like the name, and I’m very proud to use it. Any of my readers out there, if these pictures trigger a memory, or if by chance any one had a photo, I’d sure love to hear about it.