When you know it's really fall...
This morning was gorgeous. Lightly overcast with a stiff, cool breeze, the smell of dry and decaying leaves in the air.
Yes, I know I'm fairly strange. While I appreciate bright sunshine and deep blue skies, and consider such beautiful in its own right, it is not the weather I find myself most comfortable in. Due to my complexion, I'm not fond of prolonged periods in direct sunlight, and my intolerance for extreme heat has been demonstrated on more than one occasion.
It's certainly not the weather my instincts feel I should be experiencing this time of year. I am still a child of the north. I come from a place where it usually rains about half the summer, and where we start to see our first frosts in early September.
Even after eight years of living in Texas, my body has never fully adjusted to the loss of the environmental cues noting the turning of the seasons. We're past the fall equinox, and yet most days it feels like the middle of summer to me. Every year Christmas sneaks up on me, because my subconscious never considers it to be winter.
I miss Minnesota. I miss home. No matter how long I stay here in the South, I doubt I will ever feel any other place to be truly home. I would return there if it were feasible, but I would have no job, no family that I cared to speak to, no friends that I've kept in touch with... no life to live there. Partially this is my own fault; partially this was the breaking of the ties necessary for me to let go of all the darkness I left behind.
Yes, I know I'm fairly strange. While I appreciate bright sunshine and deep blue skies, and consider such beautiful in its own right, it is not the weather I find myself most comfortable in. Due to my complexion, I'm not fond of prolonged periods in direct sunlight, and my intolerance for extreme heat has been demonstrated on more than one occasion.
It's certainly not the weather my instincts feel I should be experiencing this time of year. I am still a child of the north. I come from a place where it usually rains about half the summer, and where we start to see our first frosts in early September.
Even after eight years of living in Texas, my body has never fully adjusted to the loss of the environmental cues noting the turning of the seasons. We're past the fall equinox, and yet most days it feels like the middle of summer to me. Every year Christmas sneaks up on me, because my subconscious never considers it to be winter.
I miss Minnesota. I miss home. No matter how long I stay here in the South, I doubt I will ever feel any other place to be truly home. I would return there if it were feasible, but I would have no job, no family that I cared to speak to, no friends that I've kept in touch with... no life to live there. Partially this is my own fault; partially this was the breaking of the ties necessary for me to let go of all the darkness I left behind.