Autumn Beckons

I love fall. The temperature can be perfect, the leaves turn red-gold, the wind grows crisp and apples, pumpkins, soups and gravy come back into fashion.

Fall is our reward for having survived the punishing muggy heat of summer, just like spring is our reward for surviving what seems like an interminable winter. Minnesota autumns are gorgeous.

According to the Farmers Almanac, we’re supposed to have a very nasty winter this year.

In Minnesota, predicting a bad winter is almost like predicting the sun will rise in the east tomorrow; you can do it with absolute certainty, because even when the winter is relatively mild, it never feels mild. When it’s 15 degrees out, nobody says “Gee, I’m so glad it’s not 10.” For one thing, we’re shivering too hard to talk. For another thing, chances are if you’re outside you have something to do, such as shoveling, or getting the mail, or sliding over to your car hoping you won’t slip on the ice and break something important, like your skull.

Don’t get me wrong. I like winter. It gives you an excellent excuse to stay indoors. But I only like it for a few months. When February rolls around, I start thinking: “When is this going to be over?” And when I flip over March on my wall calender, I think: “I can hold out another month. Yes. I will hold out another month.” And then, in April: “If it snows one more @$%&ing time, I’m moving to Tahiti.”

No, winter’s beautiful, summer allows you to go on boats and grill, and spring is a muddy relief, but autumn is the season for me.

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