Southern Fall is different than Fall across the rest of the country, it seems slower like it is taking its time, slowly building towards the colder weather like it is distilling a fine Brandy-wine made from the fruits of Spring and Summer that you can sip on a slightly chilly evening on the porch.
I will admit to there being slight skirmish in my mind being born and living for a long time in the Midwest for the falls you can experience up there, but although the crunch of the leaves and the brisk air is wonderful, it also is of course the precursor to Winter and states like Illinois where I was from that means snow, usually in large amounts at least twice during the season and as much as I love the snow as a kid, I no longer find it as ‘fun’ as I once did.
What once were happy days filled with snow forts, sledding, and catching snowflakes on your tongue turned to shoveling, scraping, and bitter cold.
Snowmen to snowed in, snow days off school to horrible commutes to work, and sledding to trying to navigate your way through streets and sidewalks of ice and snow.
Instead, as I’m now pretty much firmly entrenched in the middle-age years of my life, I much prefer the slow burn of the Southern Fall, the days that are not quite as hot as Summer but not quite cold just yet, the perfect temperature that is the domain of Spring and Fall.
Perhaps that is because middle-age itself is where your body goes from full boil to simmer, perhaps before finally reaching low heat, which in itself might explain the retiree population in places in the South such as Florida.
Crops still grow during a southern fall, to the point where the garden will produce crops specifically able to grow in that climate such as lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, and peas, it means that outdoor activities are not limited to ones that can withstand the in-between temperatures of Fall in this climate.
Kids still play in the streets, couples still go on walks, the animals are still sitting in the sun and eating off the land, and business owners that depend on warmer weather are still making money.
A coda to the seasons of the sun if you will, an afterword written in the language that only Mother Nature can truly compose and understand with all its depths. It is another kind of boon during the season of the harvest, but not one of sustenance but of time, time to be outdoors before the chill rising ahead forces us inside.
It is like the hand of Old Man Winter is being held back by a dividing line across the United States and across the world, and for once not the cold dividing line of countries or provinces or states, but one of warmth and growth, one that promises that even on the coldest of cold nights, the light and heat will return if we just believe it can and hold onto hope.
