TWICE IN THE past week, I’ve noticed a feel of fall, which is odd because it’s cool here most of the time. But this feel was different. It felt like fall, which is still more than a week away.
During the 15-plus years I lived in Houston, the arrival of fall was a huge deal because summer was such a misery, weather-wise. The arrival of fall here is less notable, but it’s sweet to feel it anyway. At times, some of our leaves actually change color. Not spectacularly like they do in Atlanta, but it’s a nice touch.
In Houston, the arrival of autumn almost invariably happened on the 21st to 23rd of September, a very narrow time span. I defined the debut of fall, officially or not, as the arrival of the first front that dropped the temp to 59 or less.
It did not matter if the temperature rose above 60 later in the day or even to 70, the mere fact that it hit the 50s at dawn was good enough for me. It was exhilarating.
Autumn of the year takes on an additional significance for those in the fall of their lives, and even more so for those of us in chill winter with snow-white heads.
Time moves on and, with luck, we’re still around in springtime.
There’s no guarantee.