Fall finally fell.
It took its own sweet time about doing so, I have to say. It was such a momentous occasion, I took note of the date. Fall fell on December 9th. Until then, Fall had not so much as stumbled. Temperatures still hovered around the 90-degree mark. The air was still humid enough to drink.
I was starting to take it as a personal affront. Around the time the calendar said that Fall was beginning, Max bought me a beautiful autumnal sweatshirt. It was a gorgeous shade of rust, richly embroidered with multi-colored leaves. When I was looking at it in the store, I sighed sadly and said, “I love this, but it is much too hot to even think about putting it on. If I wore this, it would literally become a SWEATshirt inside of ten seconds. It will never be cool enough to wear it.” Max replied, “Someday it will be” and purchased the garment for me.
Since that time, lo those many weeks ago, it has hung in my closet, silently chiding me for wasting his money. When I look for something to wear in the mornings, my eyes immediately light on its beautiful color, but, almost as immediately, I remember that it is once again a hot, humid summer day IN NOVEMBER. I have really, really wanted to wear that shirt, but the season just wouldn’t cooperate. I wanted to stick my leg out and trip Fall.
On December 9th, however, Fall not only fell, but tumbled down so hard and fast, I’m surprised it did not break a hip. I got up to go to water aerobics class and got halfway there before I remembered that they don’t have class when the temperature goes below 50 degrees. It was easy to forget that fact because I seem to remember the class being called on account of cold only once all last winter. Besides, the day before, it was in the eighties. Can you blame me for being confused? You might ask whether it was really necessary for there to be an actual policy cancelling class in sub-50-degree weather for me to realize that submerging myself in water when the air temperature is 46 degrees is not a great idea. You have a valid point. Maybe I was just a bureaucrat for way too many years. Or maybe I’ve just forgotten what “cold” is.
The temperature was all anyone was talking about on December 9th. Everywhere I went, I heard people remarking on what they were doing when they realized the morning started with temperatures in the forties and that the day’s high temperature was about 25 degrees less than the day before. I half expected to turn on the news and have the anchor announce, “It is not hot. I repeat, it is NOT hot. Film at eleven.”
As the day progressed, however, the “not hot” front dissipated. Fall sort of peeped its head out of summer, but retreated just as quickly. The temperature rose and people discarded the sweaters that were seeing the light of day for the first time since last February. Four days later, the temperatures approached 90 degrees once more. The “Fall” seemed to have been like those falls that world class figure skaters have when attempting difficult jumps- if there is a stumble towards the beginning, the skater has the opportunity to pick herself back up quickly and gracefully and resume the routine so that, by the time the program is over, the audience is wondering if there had ever truly been a fall at all. At any rate, my sweatshirt is still hanging in my closet in pristine condition.
How many degrees does it take to change the season? Only a few, but the season has to really want to change.
Everybody talks about the weather but nobody does anything about it! Does the weather seem wacky to you? Have you had to adjust to a new climate when you’ve moved? What has that been like for you? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Have a sunny day… both weather-wise and in every other way!