Don’t Stop, Be Leafing

Photograph by Visions of America via Getty
Photograph by Visions of America via Getty

There is nothing more glorious than the colorful leaves of New England in autumn. (I should know—I was president of the East Walpole, Connecticut, Leaf Peepers Club for almost forty years!) But, to get the most of your fall-foliage experience, I encourage you to abide by these simple DO’s and DON’Ts.

DO seek out an elevated vantage point from which to admire our region’s leaves, aflame with vivid purples, oranges, and reds, just like the bruises I sustained when I fell off the roof of my house and landed on my binoculars.

DO enjoy New England’s famous hospitality! Unless, of course, you’re coming from one of the following states: NY, PA, MI, DE, GA, NJ, OH, KY, TN, UT, AZ, CA, OR, WA, NM, TX, DE, NC, FL. In that case, you and your filthy offspring can vacation facedown in Hades for all I care—just stay the hell away from here. But, as for the rest of you, welcome, friends!

DON’T listen to, or even acknowledge, George Hasselback, the callow new president of the East Walpole Leaf Peepers. George is four years old (O.K., forty-two) and thinks it’s funny to pronounce the second “c” in Connecticut. (It’s not—it’s a hate crime.) He also calls leaf peeping “one hoot of a hobby” when it’s actually a fire-hued temptress that demands total fealty.

DO go leafing when the roads are relatively clear, such as on Sundays when the Patriots are playing. DON’T doubt that Tom Brady would gladly exchange his three Super Bowl rings for my four Western Connecticut Leafer of the Year awards. Glory is a numbers game, something that champions like Tom and me know well.

DO engage the services of an expert leaf peeper to get the most out of your leafing experience—like me, for example. If I’m not available, I’d suggest Dorothy Cabot, the bewitching divorcée who serves as vice-president of our humble club. Unlike certain other people, Dorothy possesses encyclopedic leafing knowledge, handsome haunches, and, if we’re being honest, the key to my heart.

DO stay at one of our region’s lovely B. and B.s. Over a traditional New England breakfast of fried eggs and johnnycakes, ask the owners if they can name their state’s official tree. If they can’t, DON’T hesitate to steal their Yankee Candles, antique-spoon collection, and cable box.

DO stop at a roadside stand for a cup of our world-famous mulled cider. Why not get two, and pour one into the gas tank of George Hasselback’s car?

DO remember that autumn in New England is really an adventure of the senses. HEAR the crunching of dry leaves underfoot. SMELL the rising sap on a crisp Vermont morning. TASTE a delicate leaf from a scarlet oak just moments after it’s wafted to the ground. Taste another, then another, cramming them into your mouth in great greedy handfuls. Then FEEL George Hasselback tap you on the shoulder and ask why you’re eating leaves off his front lawn.

DO laugh with insouciant disdain if you receive a letter, signed by George Hasselback and Dorothy Cabot, asking that you resign from the East Walpole Leaf Peepers because of recent “erratic behavior.” George has clearly duped Dorothy into lending her name to a witch hunt. (Speaking of witch hunts, DO make sure to visit Salem, Massachusetts—its white birches and American elms are spectacular.)

DON’T fall prey to the fallacy that there is a single day on which the fall colors are at their peak. That peak actually occurs over a three-day period, from October 22nd to the 24th, during which time you should drive around all six New England states at maximum speed in a leaf-peeping frenzy. DON’T sleep, DON’T eat, and by all means DON’T stop for bathroom breaks—just fashion a crude diaper out of leaves from the red maple, the most absorbent of all New England’s fall foliage.

DO make sure to check out the late-autumn vistas outside the East Walpole Psychiatric Halfway House, where I’m currently amazing my fellow-residents with my knowledge of the tamarack, the only local conifer to shed all its needles.