The air is getting a little bite to it.
Sure, it’s a bite in the same way that a nonagenarian gums at his smushed prunes every morning, but it’s still a bite. The cool air is beginning to make its way down the jet stream and heading South.
And I love it.
My two favorite seasons here at Casa de Dude in Charlotte, NC (as if there is a Casa de Dude anywhere else. Not like we can barely afford this place or anything.) are fall and spring.
They’re why we moved north from Florida, after all. Both my wife, known to one and all as She Who Must Be Optimally Thermo-Regulated Through External Means, and I lived in Florida for a long while. And we got used to the slight temperature variation of the Sunshine State.
Sure, there are four seasons in Florida. There’s Summer. Late Summer. Three Days of Winter and Early Summer. See? Four seasons.
We just wanted a place where you could actually tell the seasons apart via a means somewhat more intuitive than flipping through a calendar. Hence the move north, where we ran into a great number of people who made the move south to Charlotte because they were sick of the cold weather. I guess we learned to meet in the middle.
While I have come to love fall and spring, it wasn’t an easy transition. About fourteen years ago this month, during our first October up north, I stood at the back window washing dishes. Looking out in our backyard, I started getting really depressed.
We’d only just moved and purchased the house, partly because it had a wonderful back yard, full of trees. Now, gosh darn it, all the trees were dying. I’d have to call an arborist and have them all cut down, hauled to the front street and then disposed of. Which would mean saying good bye to the wonderful mini woods there in the back yard.
At which point I realized what was actually going on: It was fall. The leaves were turning brown and falling off. Just like they were supposed to do.
I’d lived in Florida so long I’d forgotten that trees turned brown and went dormant during winter.
I did eventually manage to get over the bout of intense stupidity. Well, according to me I got over it. Not so much others.
Now, though. . . Now I look forward to the fall, dudes. I enjoy watching the sun set a little later every night. Not so much having to get up when it’s still very, very dark out, but it’s a nice change up from what we normally have.
The cooler air. The annual return of the jackets to being strewn-o round everywhere. The annual frantic search for a warm hat to put on a bald head for an early morning dog walk.
Ah, yes. This is the best time of all.
And then I get to dress up and pig out on candy.
What’s not to love?