Uncle

Man, you whine a little about autumn and fall lovers everywhere crawl out of the woodwork and slap you around. Everywhere I’ve turned this week, I’ve caught flak over it. “But Hula, the fall is so pretty. You don’t sweat as much. Don’t you love the change of seasons? It’s chili weather again. Before you know it Christmas will be here.” Yadda, yadda, yadda. Blah, blah, blah. On and on with the ain’t fall grand business. Mad Maxx even told me to get my butt in some nice corduroys, put on that fuzzy sweater and get out there and make the most of it. Geez, Louise, you people are persistent. Okay, okay. I give up. See the white flag in my hand? It’s waving just for you, Mia…and janjanmom..and Maxx. I…reluctantly…surrender.

I’ll admit autumn IS pretty, and the weather IS perfect. It’s just that fall reminds me that winter is just around the corner, and I have grown to detest winter. It feels so heavy. The sky is gray. The trees are naked. The clothes are heavy. I hate the sweaters, the coats, the gloves, the hats. Layer upon layer of stuff that makes me yearn for the warm days when you can go outside without preparation. When you can skip the socks and shoes and the long pants. When everything is bright and vivid and bathed in light. To me, fall is a reminder that all of that is over for many months. The really sad part is that winters in Kentucky aren’t even that bad, certainly nothing like the winters my blogger friends in Minnesota and New Hampshire endure every year.

In years past, I used to roll with the seasons, but the last few years I’ve gotten downright cranky about winter. I do okay through December because I’m so preoccupied with Thanksgiving and Christmas, but January and February are long months for me. They stretch on forever. I perk up in March because I know spring’s coming, and the first of April makes me downright giddy. If I lived in a tropical climate long enough I might begin to miss having four seasons, but I’m not so sure. I’d like to live in Aruba long enough to find out. In the meantime, I’ll muddle through.

In the past two days I’ve done a little self assessing. Because of some dysfunction that’s going on in a friend’s life, I felt a need to review my attitude about that person’s actions. I realized I cannot “fix” that person and that she alone is responsible for her happiness. In turn, I am responsible for my happiness. Taking ownership of that responsibility means focusing on the good things and living in the moment in stead of worrying about what I think someone else should be doing. So, autumn lovers, you will be glad to know that I skipped the treadmill and ran outside at lunch today, purposefully picking a scenic route and forcing myself to take in the trees and sunshine. It was beautiful, and I felt like I could run forever.

I have a friend who died last week of cancer, and he would have given anything to have had just one more day with his wife and daughters. I shall quit my whining because God is giving me some beautiful days right now, free for the taking, and I need to appreciate that. If I try hard enough I might just enjoy this autumn business a little bit. Heck, I drove past a tree with some beautiful leaves yesterday and smiled before I could help myself. I won’t be breaking out the pumpkins anytime soon, but I might have some cider, and I might, just might, put away most of my flip flops this weekend if I work up the courage. As for the corduroy pants? Don’t push it.