It's not light anymore when I get up. I guess it's not completely dark, but it's a low grey light, not a sunshiney morning. And it's chilly, and dewey, and I want to wear a sweatshirt over my tank top. When we got home from our walk this morning (an easy one, with my shins still complaining) I went around the house shutting windows.
My California-native Housemate and I were talking the other night about the extreme seasonality of Maine. How different fall feels from summer, and what a bittersweet relief it is to have night come on earlier. She asked, "Are summers always this...intense?" They are. A Maine summertime is a sprint of outdoor playtime, midweek adventures after work, laughter and cocktails on the porch, visiting houseguests, wedding festivities, boating and gardening and yard projects. The onset of fall, with the shortening of the days, the departure of transient guests from away, and the routine imposed on people who have academic schedules, is a dramatic change. Nights get dark and suddenly you want to gather in your kitchen again, with a couple of close friends and something bubbling on the stove, or curl up on the sofa reading under the warm light of a lamp. Friends who were scattered away, on their own summer sprints, start to reappear. The places you feel like going and the things you feel like doing change. It's like coming inside after recess.
It's still gorgeous out there -- more so than in any other month, I think, with the low yellow light and the reddening of the leaves here and there. But the tilt of the earth and the chilly clear dark nights begin to remind us of the pleasures of the indoors, too.
Fall in New England is such a spectacular season, perhaps because of that clear contrast with the heat and humidity and bright evening of the summer. Having moved to California many years ago, I have never forgotten the special light of autumn, nor its perfumes and colors that are a hallmark of the New england experience. It is your housemates observation in reverse.
Posted by: WAB | September 03, 2004 at 10:29 AM
I may be getting ahead of the weather here, but there was ice on my windshield the other morning and I discovered that the heat in my car wasn't working anymore.
I am a singer-songwriter from Vermont and here are the lyrics to my tune "Frozen." I wrote it a few years ago while home sick with the flu. It's a harbinger of what's in store for all of us New Englanders in the next few months and a reminder that winter is but one of the seasons and that they all keep on turning. I think I should have called it "March" instead...
FROZEN
Winter wears you down
and makes you feel tired
with it's melting snow
Tissues, bad TV and herbal tea
with vitamin C
When did I start to wake up
somber and quiet
one day at a time
Sunlight on the window
Blinked and I missed the game
Lately I just sit and wonder
what I've done wrong
Where did I go wrong?
Somewhere out in the garden
they lie like dark, unusual stones
buried under the surface
preparing for spring
with no outward sign
seeds crave brilliant sunlight
they know they need it
What's wrong with you?
Daylight's just a brightening now
a uniform gradual light
lately I just sit and wonder
what I've done wrong
Where did I go wrong?
Somewhere out in the blue
fly souls on a mission
headed for home
And ice melts into rushes
that tear at the banks
and muddy the land
Why does the weather affect me
no shell can protect me
from icy grey skies
But, Sunlight is a presence
a beacon that chases the night
I follow in a circle
like some lost wheelwright
turning through this night
-Rebecca Padula
www.rebeccapadula.com
Posted by: folkgrrlvt | October 12, 2004 at 03:40 PM