Talk About The Weather.

For me the new year always begins in September. A school days throwback. With the angle of the suns rays, bending calendar days strive for a change. In the schedule. In the priorities. In the weather. I am an October birth. Is that why this season is when I begin to feel alive? My beginning coinciding with what is traditionally known as the end. When all begins to fade and wither. When in some places it appears barren but is only sleeping. Hibernating. Cocooning the future against the elements of  harshness in the season. I could thrive in this simplified environment. I have to search for it in my life's location. My spot on the map refuses to surrender. It clings to lushness. Life sinks it's nails into the flesh of leaves and transfuses moisture into their veins. They will not die. They will not fall. They will not go out in a blaze of glory. I bleed boredom on the view. Once in a very great while the elements fight back. Last year the winter had built it's strength. Ate it's Wheaties in the North and ran the marathon. Breaking through the ribbon on the finish line it hit the bottom tip of the state. It blew past my world like a loved one running the race to save my life. Raising awareness to cure hot flashes. I cheered it on. Dismayed by the crunching Hibiscus I swallowed my glee momentarily. They were lovely. But. Oh well. The simple fact is that it was worth the exchange. While others were buried in whiteness and driven insane by it's apparently never ending unmarked page I dotted my eyes with hearts and doodled in margins. I love Winter. Winter + Me. Wrapped up in blankets drinking tea that seemed just right, not just a formality. I clung to every bone chilling breeze like a lover. A climatic relationship that lasted a little while this time around. It hung in there for the long run. It's head never turned when the Camellia's bloomed in February. They are sturdy and benign. We could all be friends without jealousy or tension getting in the way. But in time it began to withdraw. Spring would insist on budding in. Flamboyant it returned well rested and with a makeover. Winter retraced it's steps. Backed away from me with a rueful smile and promised to return. I know it loves me too. I rejected summer and refused to dance. I sat and tapped my foot impatiently waiting for a song I liked. I am watching out the window. As though searching for head lights on the road that signal a homecoming that is running late. Waiting as if to see a childs head with hair flying backward running past the neighbors yards.  Feet pumping fast to hit the drive before curfew. There will be no warning sign. I will not read the letter sent by way of the daily news. It is an unreliable courier. Has let me down before. It is only September. I might have to wait until the end of October or even November. But one morning I will rise early and step outside and it will be there. Waiting for me in the yard. I will open my arms wide and embrace it. Lifting it up off it's feet I will spin it around and laugh wildly with joy. You are back! You are here!
Come. Let's have a cup of tea.

P.S. I will be leaving on a business trip Monday so if I don't answer comments or come by to visit I will be checking in as soon as I get back ! Tell me, are you looking forward to the change in season?

© 2010 All Rights Reserved