Fall is my favorite season. Born and raised a Midwesterner, I’ve always experienced a particular delight when the air gets crisp and the leaves start to turn. It’s about anticipation and change—and not just in the weather. As a student, it was the excitement of a new year ahead before any homework was assigned. (Smell those new textbooks!) And there’s the fact that I’m a Libra and my birthday is just around the corner.

Then there’s the anticipation of what’s often called the “fall cultural season.” No matter what city you live in, autumn typically offers a wealth of arts and culture experiences. Art museums open scholarly exhibitions rich with treasures drawn from permanent collections. Music and performance festivals take residence in venues all over town. Season brochures arrive in the mail full of exciting performances-to-come at the ballet, at the opera, and at any number of resident theatre companies. (Confession: fall also breeds a certain amount of panic in the cultural omnivore; there simply aren’t enough hours in the day to see everything I want to see.)

But before you head indoors to hear your favorite author speak or enjoy the symphony on a Sunday afternoon, I urge you to take a walk. Take advantage of the changing light and linger outside. Drift over to a food cart and fortify yourself for the trek (food culture!). Look up at the buildings as you walk by (cornices!). Go further afield . . . on your way to harvest seasonal gourds, join a tour of that homestead or historic home you always pass on the highway.

Just last weekend, a couple of friends and I made time on a Sunday afternoon to marvel at John Yeon’s Watzek House, a landmark of modern architecture tucked away in the hills of Portland. It was a misty afternoon so the spectacular view of Mt. Hood was veiled by clouds (alas), but I can safely say were were stunned by the fact that such remarkable a house exists. Right here. In Oregon. Take a look:

So I’m now inspired to offer you this autumnal challenge: go find out something new about Oregon. Come back from the experience, invite some friends to dinner (perhaps accompanied by a local Pinot Noir?), and tell them what you learned about Oregon culture. Then give them the same challenge . . . and make them cook you dinner next time. You might not realize it, but that simple act of breaking bread together is also culture.

Need some help? Visit oregondaysofculture.org and plan an outing this weekend. You know full well that winter is on its way, so do yourself a favor and make time for some Oregon culture that doesn’t require you to sit in the dark with a bunch of strangers. There will be plenty of time for that in the wet months to come.

Todd J. Tubutis, Executive Director, Blue Sky, the Oregon Center for the Photographic Arts

Recently, we told some of our favorite photo-snapping friends about the “This Is Culture” photo contest. Maybe, we figured, they’d send photos that we could share with Cultural Trust fans. And maybe, just maybe, they’d inspire you to submit a photograph of your own! (After all, you might win some incredible prizes.)

Here’s a submission from Sabina Samiee, School of Architecture and Allied Arts, University of Oregon.   This photo is taken at the Watzek House,  part of The John Yeon Center for Architectural Studies at University of Oregon, a Cultural Trust grant recepient for 2011-12.

By Clancy Rone

It’s a pleasure to be invited to participate in Oregon Days of Culture.  Since receiving the email two days ago, I’ve spent many hours debating what to write.  “What does culture mean to me?”  Quite a bit, it seems!

An extraordinary aspect of culture is that at the moment we acknowledge its existence, we become part of its kaleidoscopic array.  We all have unique stories to tell about our involvement with culture, as observers and participants.  My “day job” as an English teacher finds me in a  sparkling classroom, perennially attempting to pass along my love of words to high school students.  However, when I am asked to write about culture, my mind turns first to music, since that has always been a strong, artistic force connecting me with my family, my friends, and my community.  Perhaps some of my musings will strike a chord with you.

Our families provide the first window to the world, and that was definitely the case for me.  At the center of our music-filled home was an old upright piano, where my sisters and I harmonized to Mom’s accompaniment.  We sang at church, for weddings, and for other community events—first in Portland, where we were all born, then in the Rogue Valley, where we moved when I was four.  We played various instruments in our school bands, and sang in our school choirs.  Our older brother’s tenor voice and solid trumpet skills carried him from high school through four years in the Navy, to a lifelong appreciation of jazz and classical music.  The five of us now live in Medford, Roseburg, Bend, and Portland.  Echoes of our performances, together and separately, form a major part of the soundtrack of our family history.

Another part of that soundtrack would include the concerts we attended.  Even though money was  scarce when we were young, there were plenty of low-cost opportunities to hear good music.  Thankfully, the Rogue Valley is rich with talented people who generously share their gifts.  I can’t remember a summer when I didn’t attend free concerts in Ashland’s Lithia Park, and more recently, Medford’s Bear Creek Park.  For a price, we now also enjoy events presented by local organizations such as Rogue Valley Symphony Orchestra and Rogue Opera.  A renovated movie theater is a home to many traveling musical acts throughout the year, and world-class musicians take the stage every summer at the Britt Festival.  Sometimes I’ve visited that hill to hear a well-known performer or group, and am pleasantly surprised to be introduced to a phenomenal warm-up act.

One of my favorite musical memories was the time local choirs joined forces with the Britt Orchestra to perform the Mozart Requiem, under the direction of James DePriest.  That 1989  performance happened early in my ongoing participation in the Southern Oregon Repertory Singers.  My deepest involvement with music is through that group.  Long-time director Paul French brings together some of the area’s best voices.  The group’s personnel changes over time, but at its core is the familial, harmonic bond that feeds my soul.  Many of us enjoy friendships that extend far beyond rehearsals and performances.  Whether we are performing light-hearted carols or last spring’s momentous Bach Mass in B minor with period instruments and world-class soloists, I love finding myself in the center of a beautiful sound.

Music has always provided me with connections to the people around me, whether I am onstage or in the audience.  To me, those connections are the essential ingredient to culture.