Seasons

I woke up this morning to temperatures in the 40s. Which makes me want to dance for joy and make fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls and break out all of the winter sweaters. When I moved here a year and a half ago, everyone assumed that I did not like having four distinct seasons. I'm still not sure what brought on this misconception. I love four seasons, I adore the change from gold dust leaves to icy snowflakes to tender irises. I endure the change from irises to scorching sun. Of all the seasons my least favorite is Summer.  Sacrilege to say here in the Deep South, I know. But I did say it and I'll probably say it again.

Fall here is short and bittersweet, much to my dismay. It came in this past week and I'm sure it will be gone in another few. Although, truth be told, Winter is so similar to Fall that I'm not sure I'll even notice. In Yankeeland, Winter is demarcated by the first snowfall that sticks, by more soup and hot bread at dinner, by the need for scarves and gloves in the mornings, school projects that revolve around snowflakes and snowmen. My first Winter in the Deep South snuck up on me and while I was thinking it was Fall everyone else realized it was Winter.  In defense of Winter, last year did see a record amount of snowfall in the Deep South...in February. And some bitter cold temperatures...in February.  

I should say that I do love that I can wear flip flops 8 months out of the year. That coats are optional between March and November.  That the sky is bluer than I think I've ever seen anywhere else. That I live where people want to come visit and see the sites. That it storms few times throughout the year. Sure, we have some severe weather a couple months out of the year, but it is far outweighed by the atmospheric riches most of the time.

Still, I am so over the moon that Fall is here, even if it's only for a short while.