I am a real autumn person. Once the leaves begin to lose their summer color and some yellow appears here and there among the green, I begin to long for the first autumn storm. Then I sit in front of the window and watch the leaves being pushed in all directions by the wind. Like they are dancing an intricate modern ballet performance. Up, down, to the left and with a big curve to the right. Stylish and arrow-like upwards, only to swirl slowly and elegantly downwards when the wind takes a break.

And those smells! Heavenly scents they are. Of wet earth, windblown grass mowed for the last time, of mushrooms nestling against trees or making a circle in a clearing in the forest as if they will soon burst into the children's song "handkerchief laying. It is also the smell of herbs and of the last hay being pulled from the fields. It is the smell of coziness, of renewal.

The circle of white hats in the forest are witches' circles. The name dates back to the time when people still believed in witches. And if you are out in the woods on a stormy evening, no one will blame you if you mistakenly mistake a broken branch carried by the wind for a witch on her broom. And if a black cat happens to be out and about that night, you can't help but believe in witches. 

But when the sun shows up and the golden rays fall through the red and brown leaves, it is wonderful to go out and gather forest fruits. When my children were little, I took them to the woods every autumn. We looked for acorns, chestnuts and all kinds of other autumn fruits. And when we came home, we made a gnome garden with them. We brought out the wooden box and threw out the green Styrofoam from the year before. I cut a new piece of oasis and replaced the old one with the crackling fresh piece of styrofoam. I cut ponds and streams in it and with the surplus I made hills and mounds.Then the children went to work with hats of hazelnuts, blackberries that never ripened, husks of wild chestnuts and they made gnome houses and gardens. They tied fallen pine needles into bundles, which became the little trees or bushes. And the gnome garden remained until spring.

And when the children were in bed at night and I was sitting in front of the fireplace with a book, the real gnomes.... came and populated our gnome garden. Because if you believe in witches you must also believe in gnomes.

Author: Ina de Man