So it’s fall. Here’s what I just read online.
The 2012 September equinox comes on September 22, at 9:49 a.m. CDT (14:49 Universal Time)
We are all more precise, these days. @Kcecelia tweeted the season’s arrival, here. She’s in my time zone. That means 40 minutes ago summer took its leave.
I wonder if people separate along seasonal fault lines? Some love the transitional. Fall, spring. Others the committed tenacity of summer and winter.
I’m in the second camp. Bring on the eternal summer days of blue skies and California sun. Bring on the weeks of rain and greening hills come winter. Even in East Coast winters, faced with snow and winds that nearly tore me from the streets, I put on a hat and ventured out on cold adventures.
But the transition of one season to the next, and those short seasons that never settle in, they pain me a bit. Even East Coast fall and its glories I never mind what I’m facing, so much as what I might lose. I feel fall mourns summer, spring longs for it. While winter feels, misguidedly of course, triumphant, summer knows the point of everything.
I’m sure this summer-centric belief system comes from living most of my life in Northern California. Our summer is even better than East Coast fall. Better, paradoxically, because it’s less exquisite. Just day after day of trusting warmth and clear skies. I think everyone may have a geography that mirrors our temperament; as a native optimist, here is mine.
I gather more people love fall and spring best. So I’ll listen to your chirps and chirrups of happiness, I’ll practice forbearance in the face of those who insist on calling the flavors of nutmeg and cinnamon, “Pumpkin.” I’ll wait patiently for the rains to begin. I bought a great new Sturdy pair of rain boots for my son’s graduation in New Jersey, where it pours stubbornly in the summertime. Clearly they didn’t get the California weather manual.
I’ll wait for puddles and cheer when they arrive. Or, as these two blindingly adorable toddlers say, “Puddoos.”
Have a wonderful, cheerful, autumnal weekend. I’d never wish my quirky melancholies on anyone else.