117 days

Pumpkins, spice, excited children in costumes, enjoying their trick or treat outings, church harvest festivals., football games. This time of year affects us all, one way or another.

Many of my friends express pleasure at the coming of fall. They love to cite the crisp temperatures, football, the wearing of fashionable cool weather clothing.

Not me. Autumn makes me grouchy. Fall means leaves everywhere and loud blowers to move them away. That’s for starters. To me, fall means trees once rendered beautiful by summer now turn gray, brown, bare. It means not leaving our homes without protecting ourselves with coats, gloves and such. Dealing with snow and ice. Driving in it. Shoveling it.

Fall brings us winter.

For many folks who live near me, fall also heralds the coming of college basketball season, a religion capable of lifting one’s spirits all the way to March.

Ah, but summer.

Summer means mild, comfortable temperatures to me. Casual clothes. All the time. Pleasure, alone and in groups. Swimming pools, great food, the beach, daylight lasting for hours, which enables all sorts of pleasant evening activity. Catching lightning bugs. Watermelon. Ice cream. Outdoor fun.

Baseball games.

Autumn takes all this away. Harumph. Bundle up, it tells us. It’s over. Quit playing. Shut yourself inside. Get serious. The long, gray months are nearly here.

Still, I take pleasure in knowing that these long, gray days eventually will come to an end.

Pitchers and catchers report in 117 days.

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