Mullis: Eat now or forever hold your pumpkin

I’ve made peace with the retail holiday calendar, mostly by ignoring it. Christmas trees in October, Halloween costumes in August, Easter baskets in February – I don’t see them until I’m ready to see them.

The out-of-season seasonal flavors, however, are hard to ignore.

I love seasonal food. I look forward to peppermint mochas in the winter and citrus-y ales in the summer and apple cider in the fall. And since fall is my favorite season, I have a high tolerance for pumpkin-spice mania. I even get a kick out of the zany stuff, like pumpkin-spice taco chips or pumpkin-spice dog food. I don’t buy them, but they make me chuckle.

The last few years I haven’t been chuckling. I’ve been confused. Pumpkin-spice mania has crept into August and August is still summer, as are the first weeks of September. I used to rejoice when the first candy apples appeared in the produce section or the first pumpkin doughnuts appeared in the bakery, now I recoil because I’m wearing flip-flops and nursing a sunburn.

Cinnamon and nutmeg don’t go with flip-flops. Lemon and lime do.

Retailers aren’t just manipulating our pocketbooks with these out-of-season foods, they’re manipulating our senses. Taste is a big part of feeling and pumpkin-spice is a cozy sweater feeling. No one feels cozy about sweaters in 90-degrees humidity.

This year, the first day of fall was hot. I met my mother for breakfast at a Cracker Barrel halfway between our houses. I was early, so I waited. Not wanting to waste gas, I turned off the engine. Not wanting to suffocate, I rolled down the windows.

The air was stagnant. Soon my glasses were slipping down my nose and my shirt was sticking to my back. I was relieved to see my mom pull up. I wanted air conditioning more than breakfast.

The restaurant was air-conditioned alright. In fact, it was Christmas.

Racks with frosted blue dresses and snowy white sweaters stood around tables laden with elaborate Nativity scenes and mechanized Santa Clauses. My mother pointed to an oversized elf hat meant to top a Christmas tree. It was next to a sign that read, “It’s beginning to look a lot like shopping.”

Behind the Christmas displays, like an eclipsed sun, was fall – a smattering of Halloween costumes and harvest-themed knickknacks crowded together near the bathrooms.

My face was still pink from heat and yet…it was December? I felt disoriented and a little panicked. I never had a slice of pumpkin bread or apple pie or ate one of those cinnamon cake doughnuts they only sell at cider mills.

By not participating in the out-of-season seasonal stuff, did I miss it?

The hostess sat us in front of the fireplace, which, mercifully, did not have a fire. She gave us the menu, the seasonal specials on top – maple pepper bacon, apple cinnamon oatmeal, pumpkin spice pancakes.

I wanted eggs and toast, but I ordered the seasonal pancakes. It was either eat them now or forever hold my pumpkin.

While we waited, my mother talked about hosting Thanksgiving. Who could blame her? We had just walked through Christmas. I crossed my arms, now chilled in the air-conditioning. Cozy thoughts about sweaters popped into my head. And that’s when a plate of cinnamon-dusted, pumpkin-spice pancakes arrived.

Reminding myself it was the first day of fall, I picked up my fork and took a bite. Yum.

For one tasty moment, the world made sense.

Nicole L.V. Mullis is the author of “A Teacher Named Faith.” You can reach her at nlvm.columns@gmail.com or www.NicoleLVMullis.com.