Who doesn't love a good hay ride, or an afternoon spent apple picking? A bonfire complete with your significant other's sweatshirt wrapped around you? Halloween, pumpkin pie, raking leaves... on and on with the fall magic! It's all crap Silly diversions created to distract us and make us feel warm and fuzzy just long enough to forget that this is only the beginning of the cold - soon absolutely everything will die and we'll be forced to wear long underwear and leg warmers and wrap our faces in several scarves just so that we can walk three blocks to the train without suffering from frostbite.
In researching the fear of fall, I discovered that there is no actual term for it. There is Ancraophobia, which is the fear of wind. And also Frigophobia, the fear of cold, but no fear of fall. I suppose I am the very first person to fear it. (Or admit that I fear it.) Every year I re-examine why exactly I live on the East Coast. What's really stopping me from moving to a warmer climate? I really am a warm-weather gal at heart, despite living in the midwest for most of my life. So why do I live somewhere where my favorite season barely lasts a quarter of the year? I spend more time and energy complaining that it's NOT summer than enjoying the current season. But just like everything, the grass is always greener (well, in this case it's dead and brown.) And perhaps suffering through the rain, sleet, and snow makes me appreciate the summer all the more.
So I'm going to try to be a good sport this year as we transition into fall and winter. I'll laugh it up on a stinkin hay ride. I'll play in some crunchy dead leaves. I'll eat a carmel apple and pretend I'm not annoyed that bits get stuck in my teeth. And most of all, I'll enjoy those 40 degree, rainy, slopping-through-wet-leaves-days, knowing full well that there are even shittier ones ahead.
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