I’ve spent my whole life thinking I loved summer best…and now it turns out that I’m one of those autumn people. Who knew?

When I was growing up in Florida and Southern California, I didn’t make the true distinction between the seasons–not the way I do now, at least. There were some subtle differences, sure, between summer and fall and between spring and summer, true, but they were just that…subtle. You could ignore them if you wanted. 

Now that I live in Connecticut, I’ve noticed that the seasons tend to slam into each other with transitions that are anything but subtle.

Just now, though, we’ve been having weeks and weeks of glorious, clear weather–bright blue skies, slight breezes, temperatures in the 60s and 70s, day after day after day. You can wear all the odd combinations of clothes that you want to in weather like this: long sleeves and shorts. Sandals and sweaters. Scarves with tank tops.

Best, though, is that the chrysanthemums are in widespread bloom, and the pansies have recovered from their summer swoon and are once more dazzlingly fresh and cool. My purple petunias are sending optimistic vines all across the flower beds, twining themselves around the last of the black-eyed Susans, a little like drunks at closing time. Baby, let’s hook up, the end is upon us. You see the red leaves on that tree? You know what that means, don’t you?

I know all too well what the red leaves mean. A day will come, as it always does, around the middle of November, when I look up and realize that the late-summer, early-fall breeze has turned into a 35-mile per hour prevailing wind, and that it has taken the last of those red leaves with it, and the bright blue sky has turned a leaden gray, and I’m not so interested in wearing my tank top now with my scarf. I want a SWEATER, a woolen one yet, and now instead of going in to fix myself a glass of iced tea, I find myself thinking of firing up the tea kettle. And then I want the furnace on, even though when we first turn it on, it smells awful, like fried dust.

Meanwhile I’m trying to practice living in the moment, just be here with the nice days and not hear the howling wind that is going to come.

Maybe it’s me and not the petunias who are REALLY acting like the drunks at closing time.

(Just looked at the forecast and saw that it’s going to be 80 for the next few days. And humid. Maybe I’ll put away the scarves and the tea kettle and head for the beach.)