The air was brisk this morning as I rode my bike to the gym. A week ago, I was sweating through my shirt; today, my hands got numb. Soon, I’ll be driving my heated car to the gym again to get my workout.
“Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.”
~ Lauren DeStefano, author of “Wither”
Some Minnesotans adore autumn. My dad is one of them. I get it. Finally, the oppressive, unmoving heat of August is gone. The trees in all their colorful glory are stunning. It’s the season for soup (like the one I made for dinner tonight: Emeril Lagasse’s Kale And Chorizo Soup). And the scent of fall is distinctive. I won’t say it’s lovely because I think autumn musk is the smell of decaying matter and smoke, but it certainly is evocative.
I completely understand why farmers appreciate fall. After warily watching the weather all summer and praying for rain or sun or no hail, a farmer finally gets to harvest his bounty and make some money when autumn comes. My dad grew up on a farm so maybe this perspective colors his view of fall.
“Autumn is the hardest season. The leaves are all falling, and they’re falling like
they’re falling in love with the ground.”
~ Andrea Gibson
But I hate autumn. I hate being cold (I guess I didn’t inherit the right Minnesota gene), and I have nothing good to say about snow, which is coming, coming soon, no matter what fans of fall tell you. “Cold” is synonymous with “dead.” Even the sun is sad when the days are growing shorter.
Mornings like this morning remind me to embrace the heat, to turn my face into the sun, to be grateful for sweat. Because they melt into autumn so quickly.