Last week I heard an expression that I either hadn’t heard before, or had and just forgotten:
“Upstate New York has four seasons: Almost winter, winter, still winter, and road construction.”
The road crews are finishing up a project in town that’s been irritating, inconsistent, and inconvenient. It’s 45 degrees (F) this morning. Goldenrod is blooming, geese and starlings are flocking, and yellow-edged leaves have begun appearing on a number of trees. Almost any time I’ve stepped outside in the last three or four weeks (really, almost since the heatwave broke in late July), I’ve been reminded of fall–err, almost winter.
No doubt about it, we’re on the transition from ‘road construction’ to ‘almost winter.’ There’s nothing wrong with that; I’m not very good at picking favorites of things like colors or songs or seasons, but fall probably is my favorite. I’ve always loved it. I just wasn’t expecting it so soon, is all.