The wild Southeast gales are rattling the house and mountain ash leaves swirl past the windows like snow. I rue the passing of the last fall leaves, hanging by one fiery thread before the storm.I have loved the brilliant color lighting up a darkening landscape, as the days grow shorter and colder.
Autumn closes in the boundaries of town. Eventually the hunters return, the gales blow the last fishermen off the grounds by mid-November. Everywhere the fishermen stand around, legs spread wide like they are balancing on a rolling deck, telling stories of the season. The women of the town move around them at the speed of light, organizing, cooking, meeting, working..
October is a busy time in town. The annual round of fundraisers begin. My favorite is the fund drive for KFSK radio. For an entire week, most of the town parades in and out of the studios, talking on the air, answering phones, offering premiums for donations like fresh king salmon, or bottom paint, or welding time.
KFSK’s fund drive is a celebration of community, with a juxtaposition of age groups and interests. I love the image of the afternoon DJ jamming away to the loud metallic noise of Ozzy Osbourne, accompanied in the studio by some older ladies waiting patiently for the song to end so they could talk about the senior nutrition program. There are radio hosts of all ages at KFSK, which keeps it lively.
The town calendar is full of concerts and artist’s receptions, a quilt show and a craft fair. It seems like the town meets the failing light of autumn with a barrage of food and activity. We do not go gently into the darkness of winter…
Then there is the Humpy 500, which is one of the more unusual events. For years, this go-cart race has careened down the hill above the cannery down Main Street. It started with a death defying ramp that was at least eight feet tall, and very steep. After some spectacular crashes and luckily no serious injuries or death, the ramp is much less dramatic and the emphasis is more on cart decoration than speed.
Some carts have been remade and raced for nearly nine years. Most are fashioned out of 55 gallon drums and bike parts. I love the look of intense concentration on the faces of the racers..
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Petersburg continues to charm me every day, despite the rugged weather. Despite the fact that I leave my first job to go to my second job, and the sun is not even up yet.
I love the smell of wood smoke and wet cedar and the fiery mosaic of brilliant leaves on the ground. I love the fish boats and the docks and the fact that Petersburg still lives so close to its roots as a fishing town. This is the first fall I have spent at home in years, and I am savoring every minute.

