Fall has blown into town

I put flannel sheets on my bed, retrieved my winter socks and dusted off my fleece slippers.  It seems that with the arrival of October, the temperature has drastically dropped.  

What people like about the fall is beyond me.  Some get quite lyrical about it, admiring the trees and their color changing leaves.  Sure, the trees are beautiful, but the way the wind was blowing yesterday and this morning they won’t have their beautiful leafs for long.

Even though I can’t quite say that it’s grown cold, it has become rather chilly.  Chilly enough for me to have changed my shoes for boots and my cotton jacket for a woolen one.  

From now until April, or even May, I won’t be able to sit on the balcony in the canopy swing anymore; and the cats won’t be able to go outside in their kitty run.

Oh I can’t bear the thought that it will only go from bad to worse.  Flowers will completely disappear, the bare trees will soon be covered with frost and I will need to wrap myself in layers of clothing.  For the next couple of months I will need a proper winter jacket, a hat, a scarf and gloves. 

Next there will be snow and ice and with it all kinds of dangers.  I will no longer walk to the subway station, but slip and skid my way over there, desperately trying to stay vertical.  I dislike the fall and I hate the winter.

So what am I doing in Canada?  Good question.  While living in South Africa, I longed for a proper winter.  I missed the cold that brought snow and ice.  In the 15 years that I lived there, I just never got used to celebrating Christmas under a blazing hot sun.  Back then I wanted snow and ice.

Come to think of it, I like the seasons the way they are in Canada just fine.  The spring ... chilly and wet; the summer ... short but hot; the fall ... windy and somewhat depressing; and the winter ... deep freeze cold.  

I need a cup of hot tea.

End of summer lament

I select a turtleneck instead of a shirt, pull on a jacket and wrap a scarf around my neck. Outside it's chilly. Not really cold, but there is a definite nip in the air. The wind makes me turn up the collar of my jacket.

When I look up I see a gray sky packed with low hanging, fast moving clouds. I feel like turning around, going back inside and crawling into bed. I feel like joining the bear and the squirrels that hibernate until March or even April.

As I leave the subway station and climb the stairs to street level, I zip up my jacket and walk facedown, looking at the pavement. Instead of a flimsy skirt, I now wear slacks. Sandals have been replaced with shoes. Soon shoes will have to make way for warm boots.

On my way to work, I see plenty of people who are dressed like me. They wear sweaters, jackets and scarves. They no longer sashay, but stride with a sense of purpose and urgency. They no longer look around, checking if they are seen. Now they, too, walk with bended heads.

Looking up, I don't like what I see. Some trees are still green, but they are thinning. Others are turning yellow. Were they yellow yesterday, or has this happened overnight? Leaves in various shades of gold and brown rush along the pavement and swirl around my feet. When I step on them they make a crunchy sound and turn to bits.

The lilies in the flowerbeds are hanging their heads. They look sad, like they know their days are numbered. The geraniums are still there, but they don't look as radiant anymore as they once did. They have not seen the sun in a few days and they seem to suffer from a lack of warmth.

I suffer from lack of warmth too. It is bad enough that fall has arrived; but, that we have not had a proper summer makes it all the worse. We had a few warm days, but those days felt more like spring than summer.

Where are the days when it was already warm early in the morning and one could just feel that it was going to be scorching hot later on? Where are the days that people were sitting in the shade, huffing and puffing, fanning themselves against the heat? There has been no heat this summer.

Although I am not a big fan of the scorching heat, and I moan and groan at the sun like everybody else when it is really hot, the notion of heat when one is desperate with ice cold hands and feet is a nice prospect. It's something to get one through the moment, through the day and through the long winter. But somehow we have been cheated. Summer has passed us by.

As I stand in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, I look out the window. It has suddenly gone very dark, it is raining and drops of water are steadily trailing down the glass. It is like Mother Nature is crying. Down below the red and white lights of traffic contrast against the wet, black street. The reflected colors remind me of a lit-up Christmas tree.

During lunchtime I go outside to clear my head. There is some blue in the sky now, but still far too many gray clouds. A few intrepid souls are braving it and are going for a walk. I have no such intentions. I would rather stay inside and go in search of a hot bowl of soup.

The park, usually packed with lunchtime office workers and tourists, is now almost empty. There is nobody strolling along the gravel paths; nobody squatting on the grass; nobody sitting under a tree on a shaded bench. Now there are only pigeons and seagulls pecking at whatever they can find. A few people are standing around in a watery sun, bundled up with coats and scarves.

Just before I go back inside I look up and see a flock of Canadian geese. Are they heading south already? I wish I could grow wings and join them.