When I was younger, autumn was my favorite season. I relished the change of the seasons, the cool nights and warm days, the leaves changing colors, black cat season, pumpkins, and Halloween. I was definitely Ms. Autumn Woman, all excited about wearing corduroys and sweaters, oozing melancholy, and pretending I lived in a perfect autumnal New England small town. I would cut orange construction paper pumpkins and bats and tape them to our door and get excited about trick-or-treating, although let’s be honest, I was always dressed as a gypsy or an “Indian princess.” Desi girls will know exactly what I am talking about. It was too easy for the moms to pull out clothes from India for their daughters to get them ready for Halloween night. Of course, Ohio was a bit chilly for lehengas and cotton salwaar kurtas, so our gorgeous clothes were always covered by a hideous lumpy winter coat. I still get way too excited about autumn when the time comes, but I hate what comes after.
My love for autumn has not lessened, but has been surpassed by my love for summer. To me summer means long days of sunlight, garden joys, and the sense of well-being I get from feeling warm all the time. In the winter I can never get warm enough but in the summer my toes and hands are always warm and I feel carefree and light in my clothes. My quality of life increases and I am a nicer person in the summer.
This painting by Emily Balivet expresses how I feel during summer. Yes, that is totally me in the middle surrounded by a glowing light and all manner of flora and fauna and wearing a lovely dress. How kind of you to notice.
I am determined to soak up every bit of summer possible before I experience autumn again.