Fall is the Dying Time
I hate the season of Fall. Whether you call it Autumn or Fall, I don’t like it. To me it signifies a season of many endings. It’s a season death when everything fades, to be reborn in six months.
It’s the ending of the growing season. All of my flowers and plants are starting to lose their foliage. It won’t be long before the trees will stand as stark skeletons aging the lowering sun. Temperatures in the Piedmont of Virginia are becoming cooler at night and hovering in the 70s.
I also hate Fall because it’s the season that marks the beginning of pants-and-socks season. I wear shorts and short-sleeve shirts from Memorial Day or earlier until October. So the end of that is near. I don’t believe that I’ve worn socks since April 15th. That will soon come to an end. But as I write this on September 23rd, I’m wearing shorts and not wearing socks.
Fall signifies the end of the portion of the year that I love: Spring and Summer. I love Spring because it gives us the promise of the Summer to come. Summer is the season of sun-drenched warmth when everything is alive and growing.
Summer means the flowering that decorates the countryside. In Virginia, almost ever plant, shrub and tree flowers throughout the season. Our gardens are a continuous parade of color unseen in the northern climes.
Roses bloom for months on end. Our butterfly bushes have bloomed since the Spring. Crape Myrtle blooms for at two months. Our perennial flowers have been blooming since May. Now, they’ll all go to sleep for the Fall and Winter and I’ll miss them.
For me, perhaps the most depressing thing about the coming of Fall is the end of the baseball season. The regular season ends this Sunday and for two-third of baseball fans it’s the end of a long and unfruitful season.
If your team doesn’t move on into the postseason you’re left with football, basketball and other sports until Spring once more rings with the crack of the bat and the sound of the baseball in the glove.
My team, the Washington Nationals, once a World Series hopeful, will come up just short in the wild card race. Once , arguably having the most talented roster in major league baseball, it was too little too late for them.
Despite winning an incredible 23 out of 30 with 6 games to go they’re playing for pride and their retiring manager, 70-year old Davey Johnson. However, there’s always next year.
In a few weeks Fall will be in full swing with Summer but a distant memory. In six months the cycle of the seasons will bring us once again to the Spring. Remember, that it happens every year.