Bittersweet

I’m a summer girl. I’ve always been a summer girl. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I was born in Africa, and therefore, am preconditioned to love hot weather. Maybe it has to do with the fact that here in New England summer lasts a few measly months (if not a few measly weeks as we had this year) and winter lasts all of eternity. Maybe it has to do with the fact that we get to wear less clothing, daylight lasts longer, and I get to show off my killer tan. Maybe it has to do with that whole SAD thing, you know, Seasonal Affective Disorder, also known as The Winter Blues. I definitely suffer from that.

Whatever the reason (probably all of the above), I am a summer girl.

I love the heat, the sun, the fact that it doesn’t get dark until well after 9pm, and that you can be out of the house all the time, all summer long.

I love going to the beach, going for walks, running outside, eating at an outdoor café, sitting with a good book poolside.

I love wearing summer dresses and flip-flops and sunglasses on my head to push my hair out of my face.

I love driving with the windows down, wind in my hair, music blaring, getting an uneven tan on the driver side arm.

I AM A SUMMER GIRL.

And yet.

As we enter September today, and, here in New England the weather takes that all too familiar “overnight” turn into the crisp autumn temperatures, I am almost giddy with excitement at the coming season.

There is something very emotionally connected for me about autumn.

I can’t quite pinpoint what it is, but there is something about the smells, tastes, scents, and sights of the season that tug at my heartstrings.

Here in New England we have the beautiful colors of the season, the turning of the leaves into a canopy of oranges, yellows, and reds.

And that crisp, almost biting, but not quite uncomfortable feel in the air as the temperature drops, but the sun is still high up in the sky is hard to put into words. You leave the house in short sleeves and jeans, but bring a sweater with you “just in case”. It is still nice enough outside to go for a walk, and the perfect weather for a run, and the suffocating humidity is almost forgotten.

There is nostalgia in the air, that anticipation of the other “dreaded” season, but the joy of basking in just a little more warmth. The expectation of the “Indian Summer” which is sure to show up in mid to late September, along with the magical twilight that only exists, truly, in autumn.

The air tastes, feels, smells different. And I do love everything about it. Everything but the fact that I know it’ll be short lived, and followed all too soon by a long, drawn out, miserable and cold and dark winter. I am NOT a winter girl.

So, today, on September 1st, a day with a definite autumn feel in the air, I find myself conflicted.

Mourning the end of an all too short summer, and yet celebrating the start of what may in fact be my favorite season.

I’m a summer girl, but oh, I have a secret love affair with autumn.