But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.
It’s turned cold. Four or five months from now, days like this will feel almost balmy; but now, as fall nudges in and we wrestle against releasing our grasp on summer, it just feels cold.
I spend a good part of the morning in the kitchen making oatmeal cookies and bran muffins. I haven’t baked for months and, though it’s not a favourite activity, I find comfort in doing so on this chilly day.
”Is there anything I can do to help so I can be in the kitchen where it’s warm?” Gerry jokes when he comes upstairs from where he’s been processing hiking photos.
Before we go out in the afternoon to run a couple of errands, I pull on jeans and a sweater, and slip my feet into a pair of ballet flats. There are reports of snow—not here, but not far from here. Later, I will see evidence of the white stuff on social media.
We watch the weather report on the evening news and they promise a return to “seasonal norms” in a few days. I make a mental note of which day will be best to put the garden to bed.
Meanwhile, I toss whole ripe, washed and cored, tomatoes in the freezer for another day. I make soup and casserole and think about maybe starting to cook meat now and then. I read recipes and reviews about the Instant Pot and try to decide if I should get one.
I pull out long pants and sweaters, and start thinking about packing my capris away for the season. I wrap my hands around mugs of hot licorice tea. We sink ourselves deep in the water in the hot tub, relishing the warmth. We keep the bedroom door closed to the night air when we crawl underneath our cozy duvet.
Ready or not, change is coming. I can lament summer’s passing or choose to be grateful for the gift of another fall.
I’m choosing the latter.