Fall, in my opinion is like Sunday. The day of the week that while a part of the weekend is just too close to Monday and the beginning of the work week. Fall is sickness. Winter is death.
I lived in Maine, and witnessed in the flesh the riot of colour that is the famed New England Fall foliage. It’s beautiful no argument here. The winters that followed… Let’s just agree that Mainerds are a hearty, masochistic bunch. Nowadays, if I want to look at Fall colours I’ll bust out my crayons.
When we lived in Missouri we experienced each of the four seasons as though they were clearly marked and drawn up for us on our calendar. Spring time, brought peonies, spring bulbs, forsythia, and a bunch of flowering trees along with that bright new green of brand new baby leaves sprouting. Summers were hot and heavy, densely green with the constant song of cicadas claiming the airwaves. Fresh produce markets opened up at the beginning of Summer, along with water parks and community swimming pools. All I remember of Autumn was raking up masses of leaves that had the gall to turn without a herald of colour and then clog up my yard, ditches and gutters. Raking and clearing leaves sucked up my Saturdays and gave me blisters on my palms. Everyone knows how I feel about the season that follows. Bleak, cold, dead.
I love Hawaii. Sure there is a dip in temperature, but nothing that’ll have me changing my entire wardrobe! I can swim in the sea- year round.
Fall is the death knell of my favourite time of year. It’s going back to school, itchy woolen sweaters, socks, closed toed shoes, dreaded football games on the television, skies laden with doom, gloom and maybe soon- snow.
Give me perpetual sunshine…wait, I have it here.