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Sad, funeral music accompanies the turning of colors in northern MIchigan when the nights get cooler, the leaves turn orange, and pumpkin spice everything fills the store shelves. Take a day to mourn the summer months -- wake up the next and embrace the opportunity for rest.
Summer carries with it high expectations.
Summer is so short in Michigan, I always feel like it is my earthly duty to make every summer novel and exciting. May arrives and I start planning, June I don't do much, July hits and I try to do everything, and by August I'm so exhausted I sit on the deck and mourn the dwindling sunlight.
Summer is always:
"Where should I adventure to?
Which beaches should I visit?
I must go to Mackinaw Island.
I have to plant a garden!
I had a wonderful summer this year filled with travels, planting, running, hiking, beach days, and time with friends. I was a bit grim when Aug. 1 rolled around because I knew my leisurely summer days were disappearing.
Then I remembered ... summer is not leisure. Or at least, not completely.
Summer is full of plans, hopes, and dreams of a fleeting romance. Summer means road trips, festivals, labour, organizing cookouts, and trying to capture every ray of sunlight like a rogue gremlin because over the horizon is winter, waiting in the wings.
When the first day of fall rolled around, I sighed and allowed myself to retreat into hermit mode. I allowed myself to get excited for cooler weather, canning vegetables, and spiced, warm beverages.
September is a grieving period. Instead of accepting the changing seasons the internet trolls head to Facebook to chastise Mother Nature for her capricious moods, as if sending complaints out into the internet space will somehow bring summer back.
"Why does it have to get so cold so soon?"
"I hate it here."
"Summer gets shorter every year."
"I'm moving to Florida."
"This weather is stupid."
(These are not direct quotes, but we've all seen these comments.)
It breaks my heart that my Northeast Michigan neighbors roll over the first day of fall, bury their heads into a pile of leaves, and wail about a chilly breeze. Soon, they'll be lighting torches to burn Mother Nature at the stake for bringing winter.
The mob will scream, shout, and cuss at carved pumpkins, cloudy skies, and fall decor. Then they'll punch snowflakes, blame snow piles for all their woes, and throw snowballs and ice at snowplows.
"Ridiculous it is, how these ants behave," Mother Nature says, lounging on a throne of harvested crops and sipping on mulled wine.
Autumn in particular should be celebrated because it is the time to harvest and prepare for the winter. Michigan is a great example of these, even when she changes the weather as quickly as a college student changes their fall semester schedule.
We can wear light sweaters and not be too cold or too hot in the autumn months. We can go for nature walks without bugs or suffering through the humidity. We can eat soup and bake bread. We can curl up under an electric blanket and read a book.
Fall is when Michigan gives us all her resources to sustain us through winter. Apples, potatoes, squash, venison -- a cornucopia under a canopy of weighted trees.
I love October and November especially because it is as if the trees bend closer to us earth dwellers just to show off the vibrant colors they've been hiding all summer.
"Hi there, human! Look at my orange leaves."
The "ber" months should be celebrated because they are opportunities for rest. Our neighbors complain about being busy all summer and yet they do not take advantage of slow Sundays at home when the weather is a bit gloomy.
I say, take advantage of the gloom instead of despairing over lost sunlight.
Decorate your house with gourds and pumpkins. Keep baked goods lingering around your kitchen for a quick treat. Light a "fall scented" candle. Make your home feel like a Tolkien-esk Hobbit burrow.
Make these gloomy months a celebration. Make them an occasion to look forward to rather than a long stretch of seasonal depression. I think we might all become better humans if we practice a little bit of mindfulness when the weather turns colder.