Autumnal pondering
The colors of fall don't hit South Florida in the same spectrum-blasting way they do in the northern part of the country. There's gloom in the air and a sort of grayness dominates the scenery, and the leaves don't grasp for powerful tones before they wilt and die. They simply grow dull.
Some people equate the change of season with the natural progression of events that mark the passing of a year. For instance, Christmas with winter, 4th of July with summer, and so on. In that same way, they balance their moods and spirits for that particular time. Despite the tireless efforts by the ubiquitious members of the advertising world that splash every holiday into our subconsciousness with thoughts of commercial expenditures, a sense of what certain holidays should feel like still persists in our minds, albeit sometimes only in bursts of nostalgia and naiveté. Either way, it's highly probable that the events that created those childhood memories that we cherish, were probably as much of a task for our parents then as they are for us now.
When the passing of another season occurs down here, it is usually marked only by the telling of the almanac. It's summer or fall, only because we're told it is. But there is no correlating feeling to it, no indication in the weather. It's always hot as hell. For that reason it is often hard for northerners to adjust. Christmas doesn't feel like Christmas, and such.
Me, I just miss the colors that come with autumn.
Some people equate the change of season with the natural progression of events that mark the passing of a year. For instance, Christmas with winter, 4th of July with summer, and so on. In that same way, they balance their moods and spirits for that particular time. Despite the tireless efforts by the ubiquitious members of the advertising world that splash every holiday into our subconsciousness with thoughts of commercial expenditures, a sense of what certain holidays should feel like still persists in our minds, albeit sometimes only in bursts of nostalgia and naiveté. Either way, it's highly probable that the events that created those childhood memories that we cherish, were probably as much of a task for our parents then as they are for us now.
When the passing of another season occurs down here, it is usually marked only by the telling of the almanac. It's summer or fall, only because we're told it is. But there is no correlating feeling to it, no indication in the weather. It's always hot as hell. For that reason it is often hard for northerners to adjust. Christmas doesn't feel like Christmas, and such.
Me, I just miss the colors that come with autumn.
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