I know that plenty of people will have shiny rivulets of tears cutting worm trails into their SPF-50’d cheeks when Tuesday rolls around. We are thick in the middle of Labor Weekend once again, signaling the end of summer and, theoretically, the arrival of fall. Unlike most people, though, I don’t see it as such a terrible thing.
I like autumn. A lot. This should come as no real surprise to anyone who’s being reading my rants for the past few months, because if nothing else, fall is supposed to bring with it a moderating of average temperatures. Yes, I will admit that I am coming to enjoy summer almost as much as your average American. It’s great when you can spend time at the pool and enjoy days of frolicking* in the sun. That said, I don’t like needing to change my clothes, underthings included, the minute I walk out into the heat. And in this part of the world, there’s no shortage of 90-degree days.
Related side-note: the puddinette and I took the older boys to the Renaissance Festival today. For the record, this was the first year in…well, ever, that I can recall attending it and being a sodden, squishy mess before even walking though Ye Old Main Gates.
I am thus hopeful that this fall might indeed include some moderation. It seems like for the majority of fall seasons in my adult life have consisted of extended summer highs, about a week of jacket weather, and then an immediate switch to the unpleasant, joint-freezing cold of winter. It makes me sad when we reach Thanksgiving and I’ve already transitioned into my heavy coat, because, for me, there are few moments as singularly enjoyable in life as standing under a partly cloudy sky in a crisp fall breeze that’s got just enough chill to make your nose run ever so slightly while you huddle into your jacket.
Beyond the initiation of fall and the end of ridiculous, soul-crushing, Hell-resembling heat and humidity, Labor Day brings other wonderful, noteworthy changes. For instance, you’ve got the start of football and the end of baseball.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I loves me some baseball. In fact, I believe I’ve watched more Cincinnati Reds games this year than any other year since before I got married. But around here, baseball has been an iffy proposition for the past decade or so. Generally, the local MLB club would come out of the gate strong in the spring and pique my interest, only to fade by mid-July leaving me with no sporting options to spectate besides the Pro Bowling tour or Saturday morning bass tournaments. Yes, fishing on TV. And trust me, fishing in real life can be agonizing enough; watching it on TV will lead to incidental lobotomy. In years like this, you’re glad when baseball is over so you can just stop thinking about it.
On the other hand, if one’s baseball team is performing well, Labor Day marks the time when the race for playoff spots begins. The Reds have been good this year, and I’m looking forward to seeing them play some autumn ball. We’re right on the doorstep of the best part of the season.
As for football, well, it’s football. I’m not sure I have the proper words to describe my love for it, but if I were going to try, that would certainly be another post.
Of course moderate temperatures and sporting events aren’t the only wonderful things about fall. Three of my four children have fall birthdays, and October brings both my anniversary and Halloween, which is hands-down my favorite holiday. Oh, and the seasonal beers released this time of year make me positively giddy, but that, too, is another post.
So, yes, I realize that many people get a little sad as Labor Day weekend comes to a close, when they eat that last bite of potato salad and slide the winter cover over the grill. To them, I say this: buck up, people. There’s still plenty of good stuff coming your way.
I can’t wait to get out the jackets.
*For the record, I have never frolicked