Fall Where Are You?

As the humidity reluctantly releases its grip on DC and cooler airs demand their presense, I find myself rejoicing for the end of summer. I turn my calendar page to October 1, excited for the heat to fade off, the green leaves to evolve into their multi-hued alter egos, and black, star filled nights to usurp the blue skies earlier and earlier in the evening. I've always loved autumn-- even though I am no longer a student, it still has that 'back-to-school' feel. Change is in the air--literally. The brutal summer has overstayed its welcome by about a month, and trading flip flops and tank tops for brown boots and cotton sweaters seems like a good deal. Fall, I think, is my favorite season. But I don't know if I'd want fall year-round. Part of its appeal is that it has taken summer away. The agreement is that it too must leave a few months later, replaced this time with colder winds, snow flurries, and, maybe, white trimmed roofs.

I don't know if I could live anywhere withouth seasons. I never have. The cyclical, predictable changes comfort me. In late March, I pray for the end of winter and a chance to put away the wool pants. I look forward to strappy sandals and beachside trips in the summer, but a few months later can't wait for the start of fall. Even winter, my arguably least favorite season, has promise of hot cocoa and ski trips. Some say they could pick a day and have it replicated the whole year long. I wouldn't want that. My perfect day would be one that changes.