The fall temperatures have finally fallen into the normal range. The heat that usually accompanies an Indian Summer has finally given up its reign, and I am relieved. I shiver as I lay the covers back from my body and emerge into my day. Friday. Yes.

Turning the oven on for some refrigerator cinnamon rolls that my seventeen-year-old son requested the night before, I tell myself, that should take the chill off the kitchen. Coffee brews as my backdrop, the sputtering and spitting of the old coffee maker tells me it is tired and really doesn’t want to do its job. Seems it is complaining. I send it a sympathetic glance and head to the shower. I let the exhaust fan sleep, again conserving whatever heat I can produce without turning the furnace on. We’ve only had the air conditioner turned off for a week, and I cringe at the thought of the electric bill coming down and the gas bill going up. I guess it all evens out, but conservation is the word, so in the name of our earth, I leave the heat turned off. Besides, there is something celebratory about the chill in the air. I feel the changing seasons running through me as the goose pimples rise on my legs, the overgrowth of hair rising to the occasion. Guess I need to shave my legs. But with pants season here, I’m giving my razor a break.

Fall is the season that gets me excited, but when I try to figure out why, I do have to wonder why a season that precedes – shoveling snow, scraping windows, bitter wind biting my cheeks as I cringe against nature – should be my favorite. It’s sort of like relishing the wild cherry flavor of that stuff on the swab that the dentist dabs on your gums just before he stabs it with that nasty LONG needle – right before he starts drilling to China with your molar as the entry to the center of the earth.

I guess that is just the way life is, you have to live in the moment. I’m glad that I can relish the moment and not just live in dread of things to come. I do know a woman who hates fall, because it is the precursor to winter. She says fall depresses her, because she knows what comes next. I think her only recourse is to move south. (Personally, I feel winter has a lot to offer, too. Snowmen, for example.)

But today is a Friday in October. My oldest son is coming home for a visit. I want to make a bonfire, roast some wienies, make some s’mores, wear my sweatshirt, and maybe we’ll even go to a haunted house this weekend. Fall is a time to celebrate for me. I made it through the summer, the weather is bearable now, and the leaves on the lovely trees that grace my life are painting themselves in their finest. It MUST be a party!


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