WAFFLES

The landscape between home and the Cabbage’s school is blanketed with trees. When I drove out there last week to take them to the dentist, the sky was overcast and there was a light rain hitting my windshield. The temperature was somewhere between cool and warm. I looked out at the usual sea of green and started to notice hints of yellows and golds. I was not pleased. Later, I was talking about this to coworkers when of them suggested that some of our yellows and golds could be due to drought. That was only mildly reassuring because I looked at the calendar and September is not far from being at its end. Tomorrow is officially the first day of Fall. A cold front is moving in this evening to kick things off.

As always, I am not ready.

September is hard. I want Summer to last forever. I want heat and sun and popsicles and endless scooter riding days. This week, when I have walked into the office in the mornings, I have noticed a shift in the light. It is the beginning of rainbow season, the time of year that the angle of the sun produces rainbows on our walls as it bounces off the edge of our glass cubicles. I remember now that I love rainbow season and I’m always taking pictures of my desk toys with rainbows, me with rainbows coming out of my ears. The changing leaves really are spectacular here. The reds and oranges in particular. They have a way of catching the light so that they appear as flames. Eleven years here and I’m still stunned and amazed, pointing out their spectacular beauty during every car ride, pulling over to take more pictures. And I like decorating for Halloween. Googly eyes on pumpkins are hilarious.

Transitions between seasons is a kind of death. There is a mourning period for what must be lost or sacrificed in order to move on to the next season. As Spring moves into Summer, I mourn the loss of the tulips and the new bursts of color while I welcome the heat, the lightening bugs and the buzzy sounds of that season. I find myself mourning the loss of those things now as we move into Fall and as Fall moves into Winter, I will mourn the loss of color. Winter is a full season of mourning for me. This is why I grasp so firmly to last days of Summer and resist the move into chillier weather.

I know what is coming.

I rode my scooter to work today, probably the last time this year without the need of a jacket. Michael told me that it was going to rain today, but I took a chance and rode the scooter anyway. Weather predictions say that the rain is not expected until this evening. I am willing to take this risk because I don’t know how many scooter days are even left for this year. So I’m soaking up as much joy and heat while I still can.