While I was walking yesterday–something I’m trying to do every day again, now that the chronic heat and humidity seem to have ended and a summer of not walking and daily ice cream eating has caught up with me–I started seeing the signs that fall is coming. I’m ok with that. Ever since I was small I preferred fall to summer, but it’s still bittersweet. Good-bye, lazy schedule. Good-bye, working when I felt like working. Welcome, lots of meetings. Welcome, endless grading. But also–and actually truly, not facetiously–welcome, new students, eager to learn.
Bittersweet, it is, but I look forward to the colder nights, sleeping without a fan (though ours does help cover up The Cackler next door). Already it’s dark at 8:30 instead of 9, and in the spirit, finding a block of frozen pumpkin I’d forgotten about til I found it cleaning out the freezer when it croaked last month, I made pumpkin bread. So long, blueberry and strawberry bread; welcome back, cozy spicy pumpkinness. And even though it’s about 85 today, the beating of the sun on the dining room has eased from earlier this season (which is why I can sit here and write, and maybe finish up some syllabi), and before long we’ll want sweatshirts when we go outside.
All that said, this still freaks me out: the lone early-turning tree, already half-orange. It’s always the first to drop its leaves, too, which is, for me, a much less-welcome sign. Though I’m getting better at accepting winter for what it is–seemingly endless!–and which makes my favorite season much more precious by its brevity.