It's feeling downright fallish around here, with a morning low of 37.5 yesterday morning, and frost on the neighbor's field, followed by a tropical storm that shook the house like an army of giant ogres trying to gain entry.
Everyone I talk to glories in the weather and says what a relief it is and isn't it beautiful, while meanwhile I cling to the last vestiges of summer like a jilted bride clutching the tatters of her veil.
Autumn can be beautiful, I know, with its technicolor leaves and high blue skies, the big full moons and the pumpkins and apples, the acorns and seeds, asters and sunflowers. I'll give you that. But it's all just a show. A sleight of hand intended to distract you, to trick you into forgetting it's really a prelude to winter, and that's something I'm not ready to face.
Already I have visions of getting stuck in the driveway, and of leaving in the dark in the mornings and getting home in the dark in the evenings, almost like daylight never even happens for four or five months. I'm facing the impending season with a combination of denial (maybe it was the dark, March-like gloom left behind after a night of wild rain, but this morning I saw a black ant on the floor in the kitchen and thought to myself, "The ants never went away all winter," literally thinking for a second or two that we had already come out the other side of the long season, rather than just beginning to gird our loins in anticipation) and digging in, clinging to summer with all I'm worth. Which is, as we all know, a futile exercise.
I'm trying to be more positive about the turning season, I am. One thing I'm looking forward to is re-centering after a whirlwind summer of weekend trips and visitors and chasing the sun. This weekend I've decided to skip a certain fair that everyone else in the state will be attending, in favor of just spending a day at home, for the first time in I don't know how long. I have household projects that have been waiting patiently in queue for months, and much writing to catch up after too many weekends of beach or lake or friends or fun winning out over work.
If I could picture myself this winter curled up next to the fire (on the new couch that is on my list of things I must do this fall) with a book of poetry and a cup of chai, rather than digging my car out of a snowbank in the dark at five a.m., maybe, just maybe, I could face the season with a little more equanimity.
How about you? How does the change in seasons make you feel?