The Waiting Room: Waiting for Fall

When you grow up in Montana, fall is not a season one looks forward to. When you are a kid, fall means the end of summer break, thus ending long days of riding your bike in the street, running through the sprinkler, swimming at the community pool, fishing in the stream behind the mall, Tecmo Bowl tournaments and bare feet.

Image by YelmelNoBrainer via Flickr

When you get older, fall is when the temperature starts to drop, bringing with it snow to shovel, icy roads to be navigated, windshields to be scraped, frozen pipes, and higher electricity bills.

In Texas, I have learned, it is an entirely different story. After surviving summer months that are not only scorching and unrelenting, but seemingly endless, fall is not only welcome, but coveted here in the Lone Star State. Some of this has to do with the fact that the cool days provide a welcome relief to the hot, sticky (it's not the heat, it's the humidity that will get ya) past four or five months.

Much of it is because anyone who has lived in Texas very long knows that fall is likely to disappear as soon as it arrives. As opposed to having three months, or even three weeks of fall, like other geographic climates may be predisposed to enjoy, Texans understand that we must appreciate every brisk morning, every changing leaf, and every day when we can turn off the AC, open up the windows and suck in that fresh, free, cool , beautiful air. Why? Because we understand that even though today's high is 69 with a low of 49, tomorrow may very well be a high of 90 and on Saturday it might snow.

So this morning as I kissed my favorite boys goodbye and I felt that perfect brisk morning of fall blow in through the garage, I knew exactly what I had to do. I grabbed my laptop, a bottle of water and some peanut butter crackers and I headed out to the backyard to write, knowing if I didn't enjoy this morning I would regret it later.

Good choice, Kristen. Good choice.