And just like that, it’s starting to feel like fall. Nothing as blatant as the leaves turning yet, but if you’ve been through a few cycles of the changing seasons, you can tell. It’s a little cooler at night, a little crisper during the day. The days have been getting shorter for two months, and it’s noticeable now. A lot of the summer veggies are starting to ripen as part of their last-ditch effort to produce enough to ensure that their species will continue on into the next generation… assuming I don’t eat all their progeny. Of course, it’s only the middle of August, and we surely have at least one, probably more, heat waves yet to come.
Fall is one of my favorite seasons. Although, when it comes right down to it, there are only four, and I like certain aspects of each of them, so that statement really doesn’t mean a whole lot. In any case, I love the weather, the colors, the football on Saturday afternoons, the food, and the harvest and preparing for the long, dark days ahead (of which there will be way too many). Fall (and winter) have more of that homey, family, snuggle-up-with-a-book-and-a-bowl-of-soup kind of feel. Since I’m a homebody family man kind of guy, that’s right up my alley.
And I realize I’m getting too nostalgic – it’s still summer, and there’s still lots to do while the doing is good. It’ll be fall soon enough, but might as well hold onto summer while we can, because once it’s gone, it’s gone for a loooong time.
It’s funny, but I tend to see the better parts of each season when they are either coming or going. In the middle of the season I am just sick of it. The heat in mid-summer, the snow in mid-winter, the rain in mid-spring, and the leaves in mid-fall. Maybe I just get bored with the seasons and I’m ready to move on. If there were seven shorter seasons I might be content all year round.