I woke up this morning to find that autumn had arrived. This is my favorite season, but I prefer the gradual transition of seasons I remember from my youth where one started to notice little changes, a slight tinge to the leaves, flowers blooming less frequently, a little nip in the morning air that was forgotten by the time the sun reached it’s apex.
Instead, I feel like autumn is a house guest who, while eagerly anticipated, managed to catch an earlier flight, arrived a day early, and was found sleeping on my couch in the morning because the guest room wasn’t ready yet.
Yesterday I wore a tank top and a skirt of light cotton—my barely-there uniform of summer. Today I was scrambling for my sweats and long sleeved shirt. Just moments ago, I went downstairs to find my hoodie. This is too much change to take in all at once.
My hold out is footware. I spend most of the summer wearing as little on my feet as possible. I live in my sandals and my most recent purchase, a bright orange pair of Croc-like clogs. I bought them at the beach for four dollars a couple of weeks ago. I love them in all their garish beauty.
I’ve decided that, since they are a fall color, they will be acceptable to transition to the next season. They will alternate with my sneakers (my official footware for any season not summer). And for the time being, I will hold out on wearing socks for as long as I can.
After all, who knows, maybe later it will warm up again.