can’t stop what’s coming

this morning's fog

It’s foggy this morning. I do love the fog; it softens the edges of things and sort of makes it all feel a little bit imaginary, like a film set. The air this morning is pleasantly cool, and even though I know it will be hot by the afternoon, right now it feels like fall. I like fall, but then, what’s not to like? The trees turn gorgeously showy and at the best of times the air has a sharp, almost tangy bite.

This morning, however, there’s an oddly antiseptic smell drifting through the open window near my desk, as if someone scrubbed the sidewalk with Lysol. This is, you know, weird.

I have mixed feelings about fall. As I mentioned, I like it. It’s beautiful. The weather is nice. I get to wear sweaters. I like sweaters. It usually involves a trip to an apple orchard at some point; it usually involves a long aimless drive to look at the foliage gone wild and fiery. It is the season of back to school and fresh starts, even as it is also the season of the last hurrah before the long cold sleep of winter. The days are noticeably shorter, and I have to wear real shoes. And socks. (This is the real tragedy.)

The thing is, fall, as lovely as it is, always makes me a little sad. Just a little. There’s always this vague sense of unease, like there’s something slipping away. It is the feeling of love — you knew it wouldn’t last — crumbling beneath the surface, and you let it because there’s nothing else to be done, you let it crumble, even as you enjoy the super-saturated final act when you love harder than you did before because you know you must.

This morning it feels like fall and it smells like Lysol but the fog has mostly lifted by now and it will be summer again soon, maybe even within the hour. And, despite the tone this post has taken, I’m feeling good this morning, well-rested and all. (That feeling well-rested in the morning thing hasn’t happened much lately so it seems especially sweet today.) I miss writing here. I should do that more often.

Hi. How are you?

10 thoughts on “can’t stop what’s coming

  1. I like your description of fall. I too, love that season and I think part of the reason might be that very same juxtaposition of new starts against the slow ending of long days and warmth. Also what a beautiful photo!
    And in answer to your question, I am doing better than average.

    Like

  2. I like socks. I like summer because it’s a time for going barefooted. But I like autumn because it’s a time for the putting on of socks again. Socks are like sweaters for your feet. I like warm feet.

    I like fog too. And that photo. And what you wrote.

    You know – I like a whole lot of things.

    Like

  3. I am glad you’re writing on this here blog is how I am.
    And your description (discussion? mention?) of crumbling is just beautiful.

    Like

  4. I’m fine, thanks. The end of the summer in Los Angeles always seems to feature the hottest days of the year. This year is no exception. I would love for there to be some fog here. At least you have seasons there. We just have climate. It’s mostly enjoyable climate, but there really aren’t any seasons here unless you call earthquakes and wildfires seasons.

    I’m a happy that you have created a new blog entry. And a new photograph.

    Like

  5. Fall has always been my favorite time of year, but this year if feels like I’m yearning for it with an unusual gusto based on the rape-y nature of the summer’s heat and humidity. If I had a large window next to which I could sit at night and pine dramatically for the Fall, I would do it. I want the season to change now. I want it real bad.

    Like

  6. Hi back 🙂 happy to see you round these parts. The fear of fall tempers the excitement especially in Michigan because we never know if fall will be 3 months or 3 days long. And then cruel harsh no-fun winter takes hold.

    I love boots, hate closed toed shoes and socks. I’ve lived in summer/fall for the past 16 months. December looms something awful.

    Like

  7. i’m okay, considering that as summer ends, it means back to school and i go through the obligatory self-identity crisis before i accept the fact that i’ve agreed once more to teach.

    we don’t do fall here. even ‘climate’ seems a bit ingratiating. it’s just plain ridiculously hot and will remain so till november, i guess. when i think of the leaves and the colours that you describe, i cry with longing. here we have brown fields and people who pretend they need to wear scarves and boots.

    i’m not complaining. except for the school part.
    i’m so happy you’ve written and photographed. What a great house. And fog and all. i can hear the sound of lysol.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s