Its fall. I really felt it yesterday, it was colder and it was windier. Very windy. And today I'm thinking about how that wind is stripping the trees of their leaves, which were starting to have only a tentative hold on their branches. And that's sad for a few reasons, because I'll have more of them tracked into my house, but mainly because it means that stark, cold winter is close behind. You'd think that trees would need their leaves more in the winter, like a fur coat, they always look so cold and naked without them.
Now logically I know that each season starts on the 21st of its respective month, just like the signs of the zodiac end on the 20th and start on the 21st (I know, I KNOW, some years the alignments are different by enough minutes to make it the 22nd, but in general its the 21st), and just like the Zodiac signs, the seasons have a period of a cusp (my Dad is a cusper Taurus/Gemini), and every year I just pray that each cusp is long and comfortable.
In theory, I like every season, but in reality some truly shine above others. As fall is now upon me, I have fond memories of back to school, and kicking leaves, and snuggling into comfy sweaters and boots (I love boots), and the aromas of fall comfort food, but the absolute best thing about autumn is Halloween. I love everything about Halloween, the magic of the unknown, the mysteries of the ancients, the modern opportunity to escape your self and don another personna for one night of revelry and tequila shots. A night when its ok to be "bad". And, of course, Candy Corn and Smarties.
When the clocks turn back and the days are short and dark and cold, that is the day that the earth dies its winter death, and I pull my afghan over my head. The heaviness of a grey winter sky, the days of shoveling and shivering and depression are upon me. The first snow of giant, silent, white flakes, the happiness of Christmas and New Years and other reasons to drink Champagne may bring me around for a brief shining day or two, but its not enough to erase the memories of scraping an inch of ice off of a car while standing in a 2 foot snow drift at midnight. If it weren't for Hot Chocolate with whipped cream and my husband, who willingly sacrifices his body to warm my ice cold feet, I'd never make it.
Spring seems so fleeting that it hardly seems to count. This is one cusp that is never in my favor. Winter seems to hold on for dear life. Spring is supposed to begin on March 21st, but anyone who has a birthday in March, or even in April, or has spent a "Spring" Break at home, knows that that is seldom the case. There is always mud, thats for sure, and there is always rain. And often, just when the magnolia trees are really in bloom, if they escaped a last minute freeze that would have turned the flowers brown, then a heavy downpour with mighty winds will strip the blossoms off again, and lay the tree bare once more, dashing hopes of a fairytale spring.
But surely enough, when I've just given up, its here, and before I know it I don't have to wear socks, or jackets, or a fist full of tissues (except to the movie theaters). And I revel in that freedom, of having windows open, and bare legs, and sundresses. I already miss it.