Changing Seasons in the Blink of an Eye

CINCINNATI, OHIO


The sounds of summer waft in through the windows, open for the first time in months, thanks to a cool front that has finally dropped the temperature below 90, and most importantly, dropped the humidity to lower than a swimming pool. As I listen to the din of locusts and the chirping birds, I sit with a down coat draped over my lap. The sweat pools in the back of my knees as I painstakingly rip out a seam for the fourth time, cursing under my breath. I am replacing a zipper in my work coat, which I will likely be wearing in about 10 days. It is a bizarre thought, to be currently daydreaming about swimming pools but to know that in less than two weeks, my eyelashes will be covered in ice crystals, my breath frozen to a gator pulled up over my face. 


The change of seasons is always abrupt for me, moving from one to another in the span of a flight, without the gradual shifting of light and breeze and temperatures. But somehow, my typical departure in October is a little bit less of a shock to the system. By the time I leave the states, the air is turning crisp, the leaves have hinted at the colors to come, and apples are in season. I've even managed to can apple butter and applesauce before going, in seasons past. That of course, makes it extra torturous to leave- fall is my favorite season, and largely absent from my life for far too many years now. But at least moving from fall to winter seems natural. The sweltering heat of August to the icey dark of Antarctica just waking up from her winter, is a whole other story. There is of course, absolutely no way to prepare myself for the sudden temperature drop. At some point in the journey south, I will trade my sandals for sneakers, and ultimately for big ol' boots. Tank tops will give way to long sleeves, and the tan of my summer skin will fade into pale, pasty white. Hot salty skin will be but a memory buried under half a dozen layers of clothing.