Autumn Dreams

I hate summer. I’ve never really been a huge fan of this particular season, anyway, except when I was school-age and it meant brief freedom. Then, I grew up. Now, I really hate it. I don’t like sweat. I don’t like heat. I don’t like blinding, raging sunshine that seems to be slowly killing you, one UV ray at a time. Not a huge fan. Then, I moved to Texas. And hate moved up to despise. Really, there is nothing redeeming, to me, about the summer in Texas. And, conversely, nothing redeeming about Texas in the summer. I cannot go anywhere, do anything. Even five minutes’ drive in the car, and I’m afraid I’m dying of heat stroke. My girls sweat profusely. They turn red. We cannot venture to the park, and even going swimming is rather miserable. The pool feels more like a lukewarm tub, and the sun is still trying to kill you one UV ray at a time. But, oh, Autumn. I went to school in Virginia, and come Fall, the landscape would suddenly explode in the most beautiful hues. We’d all load up in my tiny car and sit atop Skyline drive, and just…look. Drink it in.

Now, I just dream about then. What I would do if we lived somewhere a little north of Hades that had real seasons–real autumns and even winters. Pumpkins, caramel, cinnamon. If I lived somewhere that had that distinct smell of Fall in the mornings.

If I lived somewhere in which I could use all the recipes in the magazines I get from August until November, featuring warm, crock pot stews and delicious ciders for those extra-chilly nights. Where I could bake, without baking myself to death. Soups, warm bread, oatmeal for breakfast.

A place where the anticipation builds as the days grow shorter–the holidays are coming! Where the cardigans, thicker socks, and corduroy are pulled out. Blankets thrown about our shoulders as the first fire of the season is built. Where there comes a crispness to the air.

And then, it’s time to go. And I open the front door and the blasts of the fires of Hades rip at my face. Welcome to Texas, they say. Yes. Where everything is bigger…even the heat.

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