Monday, August 29, 2011

With the fall comes a sort of mourning/morning.

I've always been attracted to green.  Vegetation.  Life.

Cement and grey depresses the hell out of me.  Makes me angry, almost.  The destruction of so much beauty so that we can thrive.

As you can see, the waning summer makes me a wee bit sad.  But, as someone who considers themselves the 'artsy' type, I let the melancholy wrap itself around me like a mist.  I still experience periods of happy and everything in-between.  There's just something specific about fall that excites me and makes me blue at the same time.

Maybe it's the change of season, simple as that.  Maybe it's a ton of old memories of dreading riding that bumpy bus to a place where I often felt out-of-place for many years.  Maybe the old memories of piles of snow in my not-too-distant future.

Or, maybe, I'm just in love with the green.  I don't want it to go.  Don't want the hummingbirds to lack blossoms to sip from.  Don't want the fat robins to lack a warm lawn feast to nibble on.  Don't want the lawn to lack rays of sunshine to kiss and sometimes scorch it dry.  It's better than the crunchy, dried-out death of winter.

Then, when I think that my 'Damn you, winter' spiral might take me right into my bed and under the covers, never to be seen until the spring, the excitement seeps in.  The scented candles, the warm drinks, the knitted sweaters, the promise of family gatherings at the holidays.  Those things keep me fueled through the dead days.  My beagles sproinging through the yard, less lethargic in the cooler air, their kind, happy eyes looking at me, their doggie smiles making my heart sing.  Fred will tilt his head back, and close his eyes as the cooler breeze stirs up his coat.  He'll sometimes lay down and nap, his head inches away from buttercup-like yellow blossoms that can survive when it's an extra five degrees cooler.

Knowing that they're happy makes me happy.  It never fails.

The town comes back to life, people start to walk more, starting earlier in the evening when the huge fireflies begin to hover (They're carnivorous.  Had no idea.).  Sometimes when I walk around the path near the lakes I can pick up the peppery smell of dead leaves.  I love that smell.  It takes me back to Michigan.  I can almost hear the methodical crunch of running shoes, the swish of ponytails, the slight huffs of breath.

The mist of melancholy fades almost completely as I'm sucked into this next season, my eyes more used to the new colors, the lessened sunshine, the urge to watch old, scary movies.  Candy will be bought soon, my door will be opened for kids that have planned their costumes, some for months, some the day of.  The teens holding onto the idea of free candy will get a candy or two extra.  I remember wanting to hold on, too.

Everything will be evergreen, eventually, indoors, at least.  Life will be tiny lights, and robotic reindeer.  The decision of how to greet someone on the holiday.  The happiness of finding that any 'Happy' greeting is well-received.  We're all trying.  All of us, to make the winter good.

So, here's to it.  Let it roll in.  Crunch, cold, cinnamon sticks, pricky needles, sneezes, laughter, and too many sweets.  Grey skies, geese flying away.  Counting the Pekin ducks, putting a fleece on my girl to keep her warm.  Movies, popcorn, us.

I'll see you soon, green.