Seasons Change

Gone are the dog days.

Bathing suits, shorts and sundresses give way to sweaters, jeans and boots. The world, cast for months in solid green, yields to an array of color. Red, yellow, plum and brown weave a warmth into the atmosphere, paint scenery that takes away breath, a visual representation that change can be beautiful – and sometimes, exactly what we need.

Schedules resume, and we fall into routine with renewed vigor; each year, a new take on old structures.

In the air, nostalgia. The buzz of excitement from school children turning the page on a new chapter. Stadium lights illuminating a night sky at the nearby high school, errant cheers and chants audible from backyard patios. The flames of a campfire underneath melty marshmallows and chocolate. Stories told in whispers, attempts to trigger nightmares or elicit giggles – or both. Nights underneath the stars, spent with close friends. The crunch of leaves underfoot.

A slight breeze blows across my face, carrying away the remnants of relentless heat. In its place, crisp, cool mornings breathe new life into my lungs, pull my lips into a smile. Steam curls away from a warm mug, tickles my nose.

I close my eyes and revel in the calm. Joy bubbles in my chest.

Finished with my coffee, I retreat indoors. Cinnamon and spice blanket the air, courtesy of the candle on the mantle. I pull the slow cooker from the cabinet, assemble dinner – beef roast with potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, onions, and herbs – and set it to low.

My sewing machine awaits my attention, fabric and tulle already cut to size. Our little girls are masters at choosing costumes that are hard to find, so I’m grateful for the knowledge to simply make them myself. It’s something I’m quite proud of, though I don’t often say it out loud.

The needle protests against stretch knit, too dull to complete the task. With a groan, I realize I don’t have a replacement. Thankfully, Halloween is still a few weeks out. As busy as we are, I can’t afford to procrastinate, so starting early is key. Of course, snags like this one are almost guaranteed.

With sewing off the table, my laptop’s keyboard beckons; in this mood, there is nothing I would rather do than oblige its summons. I’ve got some time before the bus makes its rounds home from school, so I sit. Fingers follow old habits and I open Chrome, content for the moment to distract myself with recipes. Soon, I’ll need to decide what I’m contributing to upcoming family dinners, so I navigate to an article dedicated to Thanksgiving sides and give it a gander. The search is fruitless, and I wonder aloud how it can possibly be that anyone actually likes Jell-o salad. Shake my head because I’m fairly certain it isn’t and exit the page.

A notification sets my phone off in my pocket. The bus is close.

Time to get the girls.