Cooler weather comes as birds revisit their migration maps, plants and trees pull their resources into the ground and the old brown bear chases critters out of her den. Getting close to nap time.
The birds seem to be swirling and grouping, practicing for travel to their sunny vacations in the south. Even I find myself wearing warmer clothing in the mornings. I refuse to go inside with my morning coffee until the temperatures fall below 60. Yes, I have added socks to my morning attire. I adjust much like the animals that grow a winter coat.
Teachers are scurrying around classrooms, preparing for the next batch of students. Our twins will go to the school on Friday to see which teacher they belong to. In order to lure them in, donuts will be served. I suggested that Nolan might need warmer shirts, and was told, by his own authority, that boys are much warmer than girls. They don’t need anything more than tank tops and shorts. I envision him turning blue as cold weather sets in.
We all prepare. We all set our lives to that yearly clock that goes around the calendar. “Is that Christmas music,” Loren asked while the twins were over today. “Yep,” I said.” Not much use in saying more. It is what it is. The kids will know more words to the songs when they listen to them for months on end. Hibernating is beginning to sound good.
We can food. We pull up dead plants that gave us their best throughout the summer. We trade in milkshakes for hot chocolate. “MeMe, don’t forget to get four cans of whipped cream,” Emma said today. “We can each have one and fill our mouths at the same time.” Now there are some things that I have taught my grandchildren that might not be acceptable in many households….including their own. However, I remember sneaking to the refrigerator and tipping up the can of whipped cream when no one was looking. I’m looking forward to my can.
My mom would scrub the house, shake out the bedding and fill the coffers with canned and frozen foods. Dad had a calf butchered. There would be plenty to get us through the winter.
I don’t mind the coming of another season. Perhaps I do get tired of the predictability. Shoes off in May. Shoes on in September. Plant in the spring. Tear out in the fall. You know how it goes. At least we don’t hibernate or need to catch a flight south. (No wait! Forgot about the Snowbirds.) We move on with the seasons as we do the seasons of our lives. There is always much to learn and hope to gather. And perhaps a nap or two. The calendar is getting skinny.