It was summer. And then, it wasn’t. It seemed like we skipped fall and went directly to winter. Temperatures dropped overnight. One day it was hot. The next day it was not. I wanted a smooth transition from summer to winter–a gradual cooling, drifting gently into winter’s white. Not this immediate shorts and flip flops yesterday, ski parka and gloves today. This is not how it’s supposed to be. This is not what I signed up for.
Then, I noticed the trees and I repented my rant at mother nature.
The ache in my bones and the sting on my cheeks was endurable, if I were able to walk through a grove of shimmering golden aspen or hike through a stand of flaming maple. The greens of summer had given way to the fiery passion of life’s last gasp, leaves desperately clinging to branches until separated by the inevitable.
I will not embrace the cold. It is not in my nature. But I will not deny the spectacular contrast of color brought on by the fall.