Here in the Far North (or “Deep North” as my bloggy-friend Alyssa likes to say), we have fully entered fall. I imagine that it will all be over by next week. Which is very sad, but pretty typical. You see, here in Far North, we don’t really have “autumn.” We have about two or three weeks of leaves dying and falling, followed by a month or two of sparse, frosty brownness, and then we have snow FOR FOREVER. So fall doesn’t mean anything but that winter is coming. That’s a bright image, isn’t it?
Well, I’ve been ignoring it—I’m still wearing flip-flops.
I’ve been refusing to acknowledge that the weather has turned colder, that the
leaves are golden (which is really just media spin for “dead and brown”), and
that the light is fading earlier and earlier every day. However, this morning
on my drive to the brewing mental health issue that is my job, I happened to
glance up at the mountains. And what did I see? Not a “premonition,” not a “hint,”
not even a “dusting,” but a full-on LAYER of snow.
For a moment, I just stared. And then I did what any sane
person alone in her car on the highway would do: I chuckled, gave a serious
head nod to the mountains, and then said, “Well played, Far North. You win.
So now it’s fall. Because I’ve said so. And even though
summer is my favorite season—warmth, sunshine, and driving on clean roads: what’s
not to love?—I will say that I am
looking forward to making soup, readying for the holidays, and breaking out the
sweaters and Uggs. Don’t judge me, they’re comfy. And I NEVER tuck my pants
into them or wear them in anything other than a casual setting. Plus, they were
hand-me-downs, so it’s not like I paid any money for the hideous comfort
footwear. Besides, I shouldn’t have to
defend myself! I wear YOGA PANTS more often than any other pair of pants,
so we all know where “fashion” lands on my priority list.
Now that I’ve got that off my chest, let’s move on, mmmkay?
Where were we? Oh yes, fall. Like I said, I’m not really looking forward to the
cooler weather, the icy roads, or the darkness. But there’s something so
beautiful about a world blanketed in snow with the stars twinkling overhead,
bundled up in front of a fire with a good book. I’m going to hold on to this
idyllic picture when the blanket of snow creeps its way into my shoes and down
the neck of my coat, the stars are twinkling at FIVE-THIRTY in the evening, and
there is not time to read before the fire because driving from Point A to Point
B will now take THREE TIMES AS LONG.
I’ve decided to think only like Norman Rockwell would
think. Wait, do I have the right artist? I’m thinking of the guy who painted
all the pastoral landscapey type paintings that make you feel nostalgic for any
time period that is not this one. See, THIS is why I should have majored in Art
History. I knew I would regret that someday. Anyways, I’m going to think like that guy, whoever he was. Because I
think you have to be a pretty positive person to see the world that way and to paint
that stuff. And I need to be more positive (I was totally going to write something
like “I cannot be not positive anymore” just to make it negative, but I wasn’t
sure how obvious that joke would be, so never mind).
So I’m thinking positively. I’m imagining Thomas Kincaid
cottages bathed in glowing light. I’m holding on to the idea that snow is
magical and beautiful and not a curse
from the underworld. I’m believing that my car will magically stay on the road
at all times, moving in the intended direction and no other. I’m loving the
crisp, clean air entering my lun—HOLY MOSES, it’s cold out there! Am I going to
have to scrape ice off my car windows this week?!
Crap. I guess that phase is over.
How about you guys? How is your fall going? What are you
looking forward to doing? What are you dreading about the changing season?