Fall officially arrived last week on the calendar. Signs of it are on Facebook and in Halloween candy displays at grocery stores. Cracker Barrel has Fall items for sale and even some Christmas stuff. So it must be true that Fall has arrived even though the weather is not completely showing it. It’s just beginning to go from 90+ degree-days to cooler mornings and evenings. This morning is cool enough to have the windows opened. The sky is a light grey and the sun is filtering through the clouds.
The changing seasons are tricky for me. Some are easier than others. Fall-to-Winter and Winter-to-Spring happen with no apparent affect on me. Perhaps because of living in Southern California most my life where there isn’t much change in the seasons? Fall meant school, Winter meant Christmas and when Christmas was over it was Spring, not according to the solstices but according to my senses.
Now living in middle Tennessee I experience true seasonal changes. Winter is more than Christmas for sure. It’s a cold January through March with snow and ice and bare trees and no flowers. I appreciate Spring’s beauty and cheerfulness much more because of its limited appearance. Even so, I roll with these transitions without much ado.
But, it’s different when it comes to the transition of Spring-to-Summer and Summer-to-Fall. Perhaps that is also because of growing up in Southern California? Summer was the most distinct season. Summers were the beginnings of all things new. School was over and I would be moving on to a higher grade. It marked the end of a year of my life and the beginning of a new one. Summer was a time to rest, to have fun, to transition. It was the in-between time. It was hot days in the sun, camping, beaching, and pooling. It was vacations and new places to explore. It was picnics and barbecues and playing barefoot on the grass until late into the evening. I loved Summers as a kid. I loved having Summers with my kids.
Spring-to-Summer stirs up sweet and melancholy memories.
Summer-to-Fall stirs up memories, too, starting with the first of the cool evenings piquing my senses for the coming change.
I think Fall has become the favorite season for most people. I wonder if it’s because of a trend in marketing? Seems like we just can’t wait to start decorating our front doors and baking cookies. Is this because of Target and Betty Crocker?
Anyway, I like Fall. I like decorating my front door and my living room with fake brown and orange leaves. I like the sound of a football game on TV. I like the smell of a roast in the oven.
I don’t like missing Jim. This was his favorite season. He loved my decorations. I only heard the football games because he was watching them. I loved his roast with garlic and carrots.
I’m in no rush to move from Summer to Fall, but it’s going to happen. I’m letting it pull me into itself naturally instead of me forcing it sooner with fake leaves.
Maybe my in-between time is coming to an end. Maybe not. I don’t know how long it takes to move out of grieving for your spouse of 34 years. I’ve been at the end of a season and the beginning of another for almost two years now. The Scripture says in Ecclesiastes that there is an appointed time for everything under heaven. It’s only a season.