Seems like only yesterday it was the first of June and I was just back from a successful promotion of my book in Minnesota and we had the whole summer ahead of us. Now here we are in the middle of August already and summer's definitely on the wane, signaled by the singing of crickets at night (they come to life as summer is dying, it seems) and the end of July's record-breaking heat and tinder dryness that caused a rash of forest fires and filled the air with smoke and the sky with helicopters and water bombers these last couple of weeks. Meanwhile, since August started the nights have been getting cooler and the mornings colder. We've had some rain, finally, though not enough yet to put out all the fires. Anyway, there are streaks of snow now on what had been the bare summer peak of Mount Irvine. Looks like both summer and the fire season are about over.
Many people look forward to fall, and I admit that I enjoy it myself -- October's golden days, anyhow. There's a quickening in the fall air ("Football weather," Scott Fitzgerald called it, ackowledging its excitement), but there's a sadness in the season, too, because after autumn comes winter. And I, for one, have never looked forward to winter. Winter is a dead time, the long, long wait for spring and then another summer, which always passes too quickly.
Many people look forward to winter, especially skiers and other hardy outdoor types, but I've always preferred swimming to skiing or hiking through the snow, and being able to enjoy the outdoors in jeans or shorts and a tee-shirt rather than all bundled up. I grew up in Minnesota, after all, where it was mostly below zero Farenheit in the winter and our house was uninsulated and the pisspot under my bed sometimes froze in the night. I got my fill of those cold Minnesota winters, and have gotten my fill of the milder, though darker, winters here in B.C. after thirty years.
Many people look forward to fall, and I admit that I enjoy it myself -- October's golden days, anyhow. There's a quickening in the fall air ("Football weather," Scott Fitzgerald called it, ackowledging its excitement), but there's a sadness in the season, too, because after autumn comes winter. And I, for one, have never looked forward to winter. Winter is a dead time, the long, long wait for spring and then another summer, which always passes too quickly.
Many people look forward to winter, especially skiers and other hardy outdoor types, but I've always preferred swimming to skiing or hiking through the snow, and being able to enjoy the outdoors in jeans or shorts and a tee-shirt rather than all bundled up. I grew up in Minnesota, after all, where it was mostly below zero Farenheit in the winter and our house was uninsulated and the pisspot under my bed sometimes froze in the night. I got my fill of those cold Minnesota winters, and have gotten my fill of the milder, though darker, winters here in B.C. after thirty years.
Still, I don't dread the coming of winter here anymore because my wife and I are snow birds now. Now when the ospreys disappear from Kootenay Lake and we know they've flown south for the winter, we also know we'll soon follow them.
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