Here we are nearing the end of July. The later it gets, the more I start to feel regret. It's not conscious and there's no reason for it that I know of, but August and September are not the beginning of fall to me. They mark the end of summer. The end of green and growing and a whole mindset of vacation, happiness, taking time out to relax.
I've always hated fall--and yes, I know I'm a minority. You LOVE fall! Love the crunch of flaming colors under your feet. Love the smell of smoke in the air, the approaching holidays. See, I've heard it all. My dad loved fall. My daughter loves fall. I get it, okay?
Maybe something tragic happened to me in the fall that I don't remember, but most likely, it's temperament.
I live for spring. All year long, the knowledge that spring will come again keeps me going. After another long, drudgerous winter, I literally count off the days until the first green shoots peek from the hard ground. Until I can stab my shovel in the earth and turn over my garden. Until the first rosebud appears on my bushes. When I can walk outside barefoot for the first time and not freeze my toes off, I feel like I'm waking up. As though the past six months was just a bad dream and now life can start.
I start to feel a little depressed this time of year, just knowing it's about over. School will start, everyone's nose gets back to the grindstone, the leaves wither and die and I feel like I wither and die.
So what's the solution? I could move (theoretically) to a sunny location like Hawaii. I'm ready, but there's this little thing about a job. And I"m not sure that would solve it either. If there was no clear cut changing of the seasons, would I remain upbeat all the time or would I have the same psychological reaction regardless of the temperature outside? I like the fact that the seasons change. It's a way of marking time, keeping track, but I wish I liked them all.
What do you think? What's your favorite season and why? Does fall make anyone else sad?
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