Seasons as dictated by geographical location
Allow me to tell you, friends, about the seasons of my childhood.
I'll start with summer, because it is my favorite.
Summer starts mid-May. The days get long, as they do everywhere on this hemisphere. Mornings are foggy and start off in the mid 70s most days, working their way up to scorching numbers by midday. It tempts you into going blithely out without a sweatshirt, and if you are not home by evening you should borrow one, or hope that there is a spare in the car. It is dry as dry can be, and the fog is the only moisture the air sees. The winds can be strong, if you're by the coast, or the air might hang limp for a week, getting withered in the sun. Those are good weeks to lay on the ground, preferably tile floors, and read and play board games. Windy times are better for squirt-gun fights and other outdoor activities.
As October wanes, Fire Season is upon us. Most vegetation is brown and sun-baked, and makes perfect tinder. Fire almost never comes as far north as we are, but we watch the news closely to see that friends and relatives further south are safe.
Winter generally comes sometime in November. You can tell it is winter because it is raining, and also you usually have to wear long sleeves. People talk excitedly about whether there will be a frost this year. It keeps raining until your boots are worn thin and there are tiny holes that let the water in if you step in exactly the wrong spot. Then it rains for another week.
Spring comes with mudslides, the natural erosion of young mountains. Most are harmless, but every once in a while someone's house is ruined in slow-mo. About March-ish, grass comes peeking up to meet the sun coming in, peeking down. It's a perfect time to go on a hike, while all the trees are showing that fresh new green, and smell new the way they only do for that 1-2 weeks a year. Fog starts to thicken, though of course it's been there all along.
And then it is summertime again.
These seasons are perfectly good seasons, so please don't tell me that autumn is a necessary season when I know from experience that it isn't. It is necessary here. In storybook land. Where sometimes I love living and sometimes I miss the chill of a summer evening.
I'll start with summer, because it is my favorite.
Summer starts mid-May. The days get long, as they do everywhere on this hemisphere. Mornings are foggy and start off in the mid 70s most days, working their way up to scorching numbers by midday. It tempts you into going blithely out without a sweatshirt, and if you are not home by evening you should borrow one, or hope that there is a spare in the car. It is dry as dry can be, and the fog is the only moisture the air sees. The winds can be strong, if you're by the coast, or the air might hang limp for a week, getting withered in the sun. Those are good weeks to lay on the ground, preferably tile floors, and read and play board games. Windy times are better for squirt-gun fights and other outdoor activities.
As October wanes, Fire Season is upon us. Most vegetation is brown and sun-baked, and makes perfect tinder. Fire almost never comes as far north as we are, but we watch the news closely to see that friends and relatives further south are safe.
Winter generally comes sometime in November. You can tell it is winter because it is raining, and also you usually have to wear long sleeves. People talk excitedly about whether there will be a frost this year. It keeps raining until your boots are worn thin and there are tiny holes that let the water in if you step in exactly the wrong spot. Then it rains for another week.
Spring comes with mudslides, the natural erosion of young mountains. Most are harmless, but every once in a while someone's house is ruined in slow-mo. About March-ish, grass comes peeking up to meet the sun coming in, peeking down. It's a perfect time to go on a hike, while all the trees are showing that fresh new green, and smell new the way they only do for that 1-2 weeks a year. Fog starts to thicken, though of course it's been there all along.
And then it is summertime again.
These seasons are perfectly good seasons, so please don't tell me that autumn is a necessary season when I know from experience that it isn't. It is necessary here. In storybook land. Where sometimes I love living and sometimes I miss the chill of a summer evening.