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The Day Fall Stopped Feeling Cold
Ah yes—the dreaded fall. I used to loathe it. The crisp air didn’t feel refreshing; it felt like a warning. Fall meant endless rain, gray skies, and cold days. The trees shed their leaves, standing naked against the drizzle. Fast approaching was an even colder winter. Sweaters and heavy coats did little to keep me warm at the bus stop, shivering, drenched, waiting for that yellow chariot to appear.
Halloween? Forget it. Where I lived, the holiday came with fireworks. Boys bought cheap firecrackers and hurled them at girls for laughs. Dangerous, reckless behavior. I’ll never forget when a classmate had his eye blown out after fooling around with a steel pipe and a two-inch firecracker. A humbling reminder that fun could turn deadly in an instant.
Fall dragged on, week after gloomy week. No blue sky. Depressing. The only blessing I could muster up for the season — rain on Saturday morning — meant no yardwork.
Years later in late summer, my husband got a transfer to California. With a 4-year-old in tow, and adventure in our blood, we packed up and headed south. Leaving his parents in shock by taking away their only granddaughter.
Sunshine, the California border, and my first palm tree. Mesmerized. California. The word itself carried magic. At eleven, I dreamed of this place. California was no longer a fantasy; it was home.
Hubby had a job. But we didn’t have a place to live. We arrived on a Sunday. The next day we found 2 houses for rent. One was beyond our meager budget.
“No pets” read the contract of the second home. Our hearts sank. Reluctantly, we admitted to having a cat. They hesitated and then made an exception in the case of our cat.
Forty-four years later, we moved further north. We are still blessed with palm trees, hot summer days, and mild, beautiful falls. The leaves linger on the trees until December. With a few days of rain, the grass turns into a luscious emerald green.
Falls are mild, and winter barely materializes. Giving way to mid-February blossoms. And blue skies remind us that spring is soon approaching.
Fall now holds a remembrance of a leap of faith. As a young family, we arrived in paradise many years ago.
Here, fall resembles the best of summers back in BC—warm, bright, and brimming with life. Coats stay in the closet until December. The season isn’t for retreating indoors but for stepping outside to enjoy the reawakening and witnessing the earth prepare for rebirth.
The first autumn rain no longer fills me with dread. It whispers of green fields and fresh beginnings. A chance to breathe, to prepare, to embrace the cycle of life stirring again.
Fall is no longer the season that steals my joy. It’s a season not of endings, but of promise.