The final spritz of the summer
It is my favorite time of year. The weather is tolerable once again. When I arrive home in the afternoons from my walk-train-walk commute I am not sweating (although I still feel a little too warm, waiting for about 5-10° F cooler temperatures). The mornings are blissfully brisk and the sun is starting to rise later and drop earlier. The coffee shops are proudly announcing their seasonal beverages. We start replacing our Aperol and prosecco with bourbon and hot chocolate. People are wearing more layers. There's that feeling in the air of things settling, slowing down, bracing. It is perfect.
I have never really been a summer person, but moving to the Pacific Northwest has made me develop much more extreme feelings about the seasons. I've never had any of my quirks diagnosed but I can say with certainty that I have reverse seasonal affective disorder. Then again, it could be just a regular depression that gets particularly agitated when combined with glaring sun and body temp discomfort. The thought has crossed my mind that looking forward to months of basically hibernation and cozy activities is an unhealthy means of sating my innate laziness, introversion, and social anxiety. Either way, observing the shortening of the days and thinking about the fact that we're not even quite at the beginning of the long, cozy, comfy, quiet dark gives me a particular indescribable kind of inner peace.
I've always embraced moving toward the end of the year as a mechanism to reset—with goals, intentions, and resolutions. As we move through October and into November, toward the holidays, things seem possible, my mind becomes abuzz with ideas and dreams for the next year... choosing to forget (or forgive?) this year's failed self-commitments. It's a new chance and another opportunity. After spending many of my younger years punishing myself, now I just want to be kind to me.
So I'm looking forward and feeling a bit freed, as we in the northern hemisphere tilt further away from the sun and the clouds start to settle in here. Everything just feels right again. Sorry to all you summer people! I hope you can take a mid-winter warm-weather vacation. I'll be here under my fuzzy blanket, in my big sweatshirt, with all the little lights on, admiring the drizzle and all the happy mossy green plants out my window.