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“Welcome, winter. Your late dawns and chilled breath make me lazy, but I love you nonetheless.”

November 12, 2015

Cloudy still, but finally the rain has stopped. Even the wind of last night has calmed and everything is quiet. Some leaves still hang from oak branches despite all that weather. Pine needles are everywhere covering lawns, driveways and my deck. If I had awakened from a coma and looked out the window, I’d know it was fall.

Each season has its own identity, but the identities sometimes blur when moving from one season to another. A few weeks ago was late summer and shirt-sleeve weather. My friends and I ate on the deck. Winter then sneaked in for a bit and we had temperatures in the high 30’s. Now, though, summer has finally gone and fall is here. The days are in the 50’s but the nights are colder, into the high 40’s. It isn’t yet jacket weather. A sweatshirt will suffice.

I saw where many places got snow: my sister got 3 or 4 inches in Colorado, but the mountains got far more. She said it was cold, down to the teens at night. It was sort of a run of the mill storm for her because her first snow is usually in late October or early November. She says 3 or 4 inches is nothing. I agree. I think of a snowstorm with so little snow as a sweeper, a broom instead of a shovel.

When I was a kid, any amount of snow was worthwhile. A huge storm was always the best as that would mean no school and a day spent outside building forts, throwing snowballs or sledding down the hill. A storm of tree or four inches meant fun after school, but it also brought the horrors of snow boots and ski pants. I could never get my shoes out of my boots without taking the boots off and pulling the shoes out. The ski pants went under my uniform skirt. I hated the look of the skirt over the pants, but my mother insisted as my legs would be so red from the snow and the cold when I’d get home if I didn’t wear them.

I can remember sitting at my desk looking out the window and seeing branches bent lower from the snow, the outside windows sills holding snow piles and snow falling from an occasional squall. I think all of us, my classmates and I, spent the day sighing.

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“Things have their time, even eminence bows to timeliness.”

July 26, 2014

Here I am standing alone in the spotlight in the middle of the stage bowing to the adulation of the crowd. They are on their feet clapping and whistling. Why you wonder? Well, I did five errands this morning and just got through putting everything away. Now I am sitting, having a cold drink and drying off. The breeze behind me is cool so it won’t take long. Traffic everywhere was so thick I swear there must be deserted towns off cape. I was behind cars from five different states.

My first stop was the bank then next was the farmers’ market where I spend all but $1.80 from the bank money. I bought pickles, eggs, corn, heirloom tomatoes, bread, goat cheese and mosquito repellant spray. My last stop was for tonight’s movie night and the few things I needed. Those few things filled three bags.

The movie tonight is Westworld unless the crowd has already seen it of late. I know I haven’t. Yul Brynner is amazing as the android gone amok, relentless and frightening. In a bit, I’ll get the deck ready so I can loll when my moviegoers arrive. I really enjoy movie night.

Living in New England means four distinct seasons, four singular ways to enjoy the world. When I was a kid, my favorite was summer with its endless days to do whatever I wanted. I remember sleeping outside in the backyard and how the night was bright with starlight. Every day was sunny. Fall was beautiful but it had to shake off back to school time. It mostly did. I still associate fall with one of my favorite all time smells, the aroma of burning leaves, even though it has been years since I last smelled those leaves. I loved walking in the gutters and kicking leaves as I walked. Winter had snow and Christmas, an unbeatable combination. I loved winter despite the cold and even sometimes because of it. Spring was a delight. It was time to put away the heavy coats, hats and mittens and bring my bike out of hibernation. I remember flying down the hill riding my bike on the way to school. I’d let loose of the handlebars and stretch my arms straight out in the wind. I was exhilarated, and I was airborne. Being stuck in traffic gives me time for memories.

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“Things have their time, even eminence bows to timeliness.”

March 13, 2014

Yesterday Gracie and I went to the dump then we went for a ride. It was sunny and warm and a perfect day to wander. It was even 51˚, a gift of sorts. Last night it poured. I could hear the rain pounding the roof as I fell asleep. When I woke up, it wasn’t raining anymore. It was snowing and it’s still snowing. The lawn has disappeared. The tops of branches are covered in white. Mother Nature is not that sweet old lady who turns the world beautiful with one swish of her wand. She is, instead, the witch with the poisoned apple knocking on Cinderella’s door. Winter continues.

I don’t remember how old I was when the changing seasons made a difference. When I was a kid, they came and went and I just followed along. I liked all of them for different reasons. Summer was easy: no school and day after day of playing or bike riding all over town. Fall was back to school, but I don’t remember minding all that much. I liked school. Fall also meant yellow and red leaves all along the sidewalk on the walk to school. The days were still jacket warm. Winter was the most difficult of all seasons. We hurried to school most winter mornings. The wind was sometimes so cold my nose froze. Maybe not really but it felt that way. I’d get to school, and my feet would tingle as they got warmer. My hands stayed cold for a long while. I wasn’t thrilled with that side of winter, but then it would snow, and I loved snow. I’d watch the flakes fall and hope for so much snow everything would be covered, including the hill for sledding. I’d be outside so long I think my lips turned blue, but I didn’t notice. I’d keep going up the hill for another slide down. Usually my mother called a halt to the day. She wanted us in to get warm. I think winter taught me perspective. I could smell spring coming. The air had the rich scent of dirt, of gardens turned. The mornings were chilly but the afternoons were warm. The trees had buds which became light green leaves which would unfurl into deeper green leaves. I think the sun shined every day.

I know spring will come, but that doesn’t make me any less impatient for winter to be gone. I am so tired of the cold and the snow.  I groaned this morning when I looked out the window. 

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“I saw old autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like silence, listening To silence.”

September 23, 2011

The day is cloudy, damp and noisy. I can hear birds making a racket all over the neighborhood. I’m thinking crows.

Last night I turned on the air-conditioner in my bedroom. The rest of the house was cool enough, but my room was stuffy. This morning I was greeted by the sight of a dead mouse on the downstairs bathroom floor. One of the cats, Maddie I’m guessing, had a busy night.

Today the stars and planets lined up and ushered in the autumnal equinox, the first day of fall, at 5:05 this morning. I know when I was a kid the seasons changed at different times than they do now. Fall began the day we were forced out of bed at a prescribed time, made to eat cereal, dressed in our uniforms and sent off to school with lunches and school bags in hand. That was the end of the glorious days of summer when every day was ours to do with as we wished.

The beginning of winter is a bit hazy. I figure it was when my mother forced us to wear heavy winter coats, mittens and those hats we took off as soon as we were out of sight of the house. With winter came dark afternoons and mornings. I swear my mother used to put us to bed earlier in the winter telling us it was late. Look how dark it is. That ploy stopped working when we learned to tell time. I didn’t like winter afternoons. They meant going inside early when the streetlights turned on triggered by the winter darkness. We spend most of our week days inside, either at school or in the house. Winter was the confining season.

Spring began when we could shed our winter coats, saw buds starting to appear on the trees and afternoons lasted longer. It became official when my mother would start to let me ride my bike to school. I was never really all that impressed by the flowers poking their heads out of the ground or the leaves appearing on the trees. I was just happy to have afternoons when I could play outside before dinner. There was a sense of freedom missing in the winter.

Summer was easy. It was the day school ended.

Autumn is my favorite time of the year here on the cape. Red is the predominant color, all sorts of reds on the maples, in the bogs and on vibrant bushes along the roadside. Here and there are trees bursting with yellow, and I love them for their contrast. I call this my let’s take a ride season when the roads are clear and Gracie and I hit the trail. We sometimes take all rights and other times all lefts. Today I have errands, but then we’re celebrating the new season by taking a ride.

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“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature— the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.”

February 6, 2011

The weather is my excuse today. It is in the 40’s, and I just had to take a long ride with my window open. As I was driving, I saw lots of people out walking. It feels like a spring day. Last night was also warm, in the 40’s, and we had a thunderstorm with such lightening it lit up the sky. The rain poured then slowed down and hung around for a while.

The older we get the more we appreciate the change in seasons. When I was little, I didn’t care much for any season except summer, and that had to do with no school. I didn’t care that while I was out playing every day the gardens were filled with color or that the air smelled of freshly cut grass. It was much the same with spring. I was glad to be rid of the pounds of clothes I had to wear all winter, and I was thrilled to ride my bike again. I was a kid so involved with life on a different level that I didn’t notice the buds on the trees or the green shoots of daffodils appearing in the gardens. Fall was different. It was a brilliance of color, and I noticed. Every day I walked to school under a canopy of yellow. The smell of burning leaves stays with me still. Winter was my least favorite season. I liked the sledding and all, but most days after school we were stuck inside because of the cold and the early night.

I do complain about the weather now, and winter is still my least favorite season. I’d be hard pressed to choose my favorite, but I think it might be fall here on Cape Cod but summer isn’t too shabby.

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“Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men.”

September 26, 2010

Yesterday was summer. Today is fall and much cooler than it’s been. It’s a long sleeve sort of day. On my way to breakfast this morning, I noticed some of the leaves have turned. I saw reds and yellows. I also saw pumpkins and corn stalks decorating a few houses and yards. Autumn colors are my favorites.

When I was a little kid, I explored my world and watched the seasons change. I noticed everything. In the spring, the field was lush and green. Tadpoles swam in the swamp and were easily captured in a jar. The blueberry bushes were filled with blossoms. The air smelled clean and new. In summer, the tall grass turned brown. The days and nights got noisy. Insects buzzed and whirred, and katydids calling from the grass were easily caught in our hands. The swamp had darning needles skimming across the water. They’d stop and hover for a bit then flit to another spot. They’re wings were transparent in the sun. In fall, the trees were bursting with color. The morning air was chilly when we walked to school. The sun set early. Saturdays were when fathers all over the neighborhood raked and burned leaves. It was pumpkin time. Then came drab winter. Christmas was winter’s only spot of color, and it was no wonder we all took rides to see the lights. The next part of winter was the snow. The first flakes of the season were cause for trumpets and bugles and heralds proclaiming snow was finally falling. I loved the mornings after a snowstorm when the tops of the snowdrifts glittered in the sun like they were covered in tiny diamonds. The it was spring again.

When I got older, my days were filled with friends and school, and I barely took notice of the  seasons. A change in wardrobe was my only response. My eyes would catch a glimpse of the reds and yellows, but I had stopped being amazed. I just didn’t have the time to notice.

Now, I notice everything. I have plenty of time to stop and look and be amazed. It’s fun to be part of the change in seasons again. It makes me feel a bit like a kid again.

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“She calls it “stick season,” this slow disrobing of summer, leaf by leaf, till the bores of tall trees rattle and scrape in the wind.”

September 18, 2010

The sun is shining and the day is warm. I joined Gracie outside and the two of us stayed for a while. While she was romping in the backyard, I leaned on the deck railing and took in the morning. New birds were at the feeders, house finches. They used to be frequent visitors, but this is the first time I’ve seen them this season. While I was on the deck, I filled the seed and suet feeders with the last of both. I’ll be shopping at Agway later.

Not much is happening in my life. The off-season has settled in, and my days and nights are quiet: no more plays, no more dinners on the deck and no more movie nights. At first I missed them, but it really didn’t take too long for me to adjust to this beautiful time of year. The days are warm enough to sit on the deck and read, and the nights are comfortable for sleeping. I started browsing through my recipes looking for comfort foods and soups, and shortly I’ll decorate the house. I’ll put out the deep reds and oranges and the gourds and pumpkins of autumn.

Even when I was a kid, I loved this time of year. We’d collect bright red maple leaves and yellow oak leaves then iron them between pieces of wax paper. On the way home from school, we’d walk in the gutters so we could kick up the fallen leaves. I remember battles when we’d run and toss handfuls of leaves at each other. My father was never a favorite of those, all the more to rake he’d complain.

I think fall has always been my favorite season.

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“From a commercial point of view, if Christmas did not exist it would be necessary to invent it.”

July 29, 2010

The humidity has returned with a vengeance. I loved the last few days when a dry breeze swept across the deck and kept me nice and cool. Today, the mere effort of walking produces sweat. This morning I had to do some of the chores I’ve been putting off the last few days so to enjoy the weather. The bed got changed, the dishwasher run and clothes are in the washer. I’m soaked from the effort. My glasses even fogged when I was walking up and down the stairs. Thundershowers are predicted for tonight and tomorrow.

The intrusion of one season into another never happened when I was a kid. The dreaded back-to-school shopping was a late August event. My mother would drag us all uptown for new school shoes and new uniforms if we had grown out of last year’s. That pretty much signaled the end of summer for us, but by then we had already become bored anyway so the idea of school, a new teacher and seeing friends again didn’t seem all that bad.

September was a settling in month. It was back to the routine of getting up early, walking to school, coming home, changing into play clothes, going outside then coming back inside to eat supper and do homework. It was the same every weekday. It was a kid’s rut.

Halloween didn’t start showing up until October, and it was usually only a week or two away before the excitement started to build. What would we be? How big a haul would we get? We laughed and chatted and planned.

Thanksgiving was no big deal for kids. It was just a big dinner when you had to dress nice. The best part was time out of school. No TV ads pushed Christmas and none of us made lists. It was just too early.

It was a week or even two weeks into December before Christmas excitement began to build. We had the Sears catalog so we started circling our favorites. Houses were lit up with lights, and uptown was decorated. A couple of weeks before Christmas we got our tree, and about a week before the big day, Santa was on TV in the afternoon. Every day was one less day to wait, and we were filled with excitement.

Now, Halloween ads starts in early September and Christmas ads come right after. They get to be routine, even a bit monotonous. I miss all that excitement and the counting down of days.

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