Sometimes it happens later, sometimes earlier, but eventually summer’s luck runs out, and autumn bursts through the door like the diva it’s always been. Such is this weekend with lows within striking distance of freezing and highs sharply crisp. Yesterday, I put on my sweater, then realizing it wasn’t enough, a jacket I hadn’t worn in six months, and walked in the cold sun to get the mail, my head still swimming in the seasonal spin.
When the world is like this, I feel both like doing everything (make a quilt! paint a room! make hot cocoa from scratch! clean a cabinet!) and doing nothing. There’s something about the first landing in fall that makes it hard to know what to do because the seasonal shift spins our minds and hearts too. All I’m sure of is that I will make soup.
It will be hot again, probably within a week, but eventually, this kind of weather wins out. The time between summer and winter in Kansas, however, can seem to only last about 10 minutes, which makes me want to do good by today (with a high of 57), and even more so, the days that follow in the low 70s when we can pretend we live in Santa Barbara or Mediterranean-weathered havens.
Then the seasonal wheel spins again. The green will drain out of the trees and fields, the ground will freeze and thaw and freeze again, and the winter cycle of birds will perch close by while the summer ones are hundreds or thousands of miles south.