We turned off the air conditioner yesterday and opened the windows, as temps peaked in the comfortable high 70s with a lazy breeze. We kept them open as we slept last night, drifting off to the sound of crickets and tinkling wind chimes. We woke this morning to chilly toes and arms sticking outside the sheets. The weather app on my tablet reported the temp as 46 degrees.
Forty-six degrees?!?
Autumn–is that you? The extended 10-day forecast shows not a single day with an 8 as the first temperature digit, and I see a handful of lows with a 4 in the front, so it must be you.
The neighborhood streets are lightly peppered with leaves of various autumn hues, with more added each day. And gone are my bare-armed and sandal-footed neighbors as they now opt for hoodies and sensible sneakers. The must know it’s you, too.
The community pool is still open–a concession for the late mid-summer start this COVID year–but bored lifeguards stand around the empty decks, making idle chit-chat with one another. The moderate temps make a dip no longer refreshing, so clearly it’s you, Autumn.
I’m not sure how I feel about your sudden appearance. It seems we only just had our first evening wherein my husband said, “If only every day could be like this.” It was that perfect time between you and summer, when we neither sweat nor shiver. A simple t-shirt and shorts were comfortable. We don’t get enough of those days, but I think we’ll get a handful more before your official arrival. At least, I hope we do.
Don’t take my unenthusiastic greeting the wrong way, Autumn. I do adore you and your spicy scents and colors. Your impish and festive holidays. Your stylish and cozy clothing. You are the season of pumpkin spice lattes and apple cider donuts, after all. It’s more about what’s following you. Winter is a little less welcome. I so detest being cold.
Before you settle in for the season, Autumn, all I ask is for a few more days where I don’t have to run back into the house for a sweater. Allow me an afternoon or two or three with temps that are in that Goldilocks zone of “just right.” I need more time with weather that neither causes me to fan myself constantly nor makes me wrap my cardigan around me tighter.
I guess what I’m asking is: can you slow your roll, Autumn? Just a tad. Trust me, when you hit full force, I’ll be ready to greet you as enthusiastically as you deserve.
D.M. Domosea 