Photo credit: David Duplessis

In the great state of Tennessee, if you aren’t looking and listening for fall’s gentle whisper, you’ll miss it. Tennessee winters are fully unpredictable. Will you be in shorts or thawing your pipes at Christmastime? Spring struggles to push past winter with severe storms, warmups and “chilly winters” with names such as locust, redbud, dogwood and blackberry. Summer moves in all too quickly, like an unwanted groundhog in your garden. (Did we even have spring?) Don’t get me wrong, I love my Tennessee summers, but let’s be honest, they do include heat, humidity and huge dumps of rain along the way.

But fall, oh fall, of all the seasons, she’s the loveliest. Her arrival isn’t tumultuous, flamboyant or oppressive. Fall comes in with a whisper on the wind.

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For the past 20 years or so, fall has found me sweating in the brassica patch surrounded by rows and rows of kale, collards, cabbages, cauliflower and chard. Fall waits until the voice in my head says over and over, “Will it ever cool down?” Then and only then, always with a freshly cut head of broccoli in my hand, a stronger breeze will blow. A breeze with a bite I recognize as something different. The unmistakable feeling of fall. I will stop and recognize her subtle arrival with a smile on my face, but quickly and yes, still sweating, I will return to my broccoli harvest.

See more: 10 Stunning Tennessee State Parks to Visit This Fall

I will announce to my family that fall is here, but they won’t believe me. That’s OK. Fall and I have this special relationship, and we know each other well. My outlook on life begins to change after that first fall breeze. My days of fighting the heat will lessen. Short sleeves will decrease, and cozy long sleeves and hoodies will increase. Hot tea and oatmeal will once again be possibilities as sustenance. Bushels of apples are ordered for storage. A mental list is made of all things apple to make: apple butter, apple crisp, fried apples and pies!

During the fall season, the workload on our farm will pick up dramatically. August to November is a time of testing and life lessons on the farm. This log jam of activity is fully reliant on cooperating weather and careful planning. Strawberries and garlic for next spring must go in the ground, and storage crops for winter must come out. Cover crops must be planted. It feels like a race to get everything completed before it gets too cold.

But fall, oh fall, of all the seasons, she’s the loveliest. Her arrival isn’t tumultuous, flamboyant or oppressive. Fall comes in with a whisper on the wind.

Our family will spend hours upon hours together in the sweet potato and winter squash fields bringing in pound after pound of produce for winter storage. Honestly, it’s hard work, yet it is also some of my favorite family time, as we get to physically see the results of our labor and God’s blessing. Fire ant mounds and other critters keep the harvest interesting and educational. Occasionally we find a once-loved toy tractor dropped in the field years ago, turned under, cover cropped, replanted and recently unearthed by the potato digger. We will all laugh and try to remember which boy and what year the toy was from. Is it red, blue or green? Cab or no cab? Old-style tires or 4×4? These details identify my kids as much as eye or hair color and were once so important to properly playing in the dirt. While they are laughing at the mangled toy treasure, I’ll feel a tiny twinge of sadness that my boys are growing up and moving ever so quickly from playing with tractors to driving the real thing.

I won’t be able to stay nostalgic long, for fall will whisper again, snapping my attention back to the task at hand. This time with a cold and more forceful gust. Everyone notices fall now. “Feels like the weather is changing,” they say. “Yes,” I reply. “That’s my friend fall. She arrived a few days ago when I was in the broccoli patch.”