seasons

Happy Way Back When-sday! As you can see, I remembered just in the nick of time.

It is hot. Outside. (Just clarifying that there's nothing wrong with my AC)

It is hot in Georgia. It was hot in Texas. When the weather dude on TV shows the map of the United States, practically the whole thing is covered in that dark orangey red color that indicates HOT. I can safely assume that whoever you are and wherever you are reading this from...it's probably hot there, too (although probably not as hot as it is here, since I don't presently have any readers from the equator or hell). (But do let me know if you do happen to be from the equator or hell. That would be something interesting to talk about)

On a sweltering hot day week lifetime like this one, I like to think about a mythical season we Georgians refer to as "fall." Fall...autumn, if you will...is something that supposedly exists in between summer and winter. During this time, the weather is supposed to be tolerable, if not beautiful. Not too hot and not too cold. The leaves change. You do things like drink cider and make piles of leaves to romp in. It sounds great. Unfortunately, in my 28+ years of life and as a Georgia resident, I've experienced like...15 minutes of fall. 

A few years back my Vineyard small group went on a "fall retreat." This is a pretty common thing to do, and in Georgia, it means you select a weekend during the "fall" season (check your calendar) and then you drive a few hours until you find a place that meets your personal qualifications for temperature and leaf-changiness. Then you hang out there all weekend and drink cider and romp in leaves and just generally have a bang-up time. And then you feel sad when you drive back to Georgia, where it will no doubt be 90 degrees and sunny. 

I took pictures on this fall retreat. Today I look back and remember. Check out the jeans and light jackets. That must have meant it felt coolish, but not too cold. We were surrounded in leaves. There were friends. We were laughing and jumping on fallen leaves and trees. Lola was a semi-puppy.

Heaven.

  The Gurleys

Amanda

I know that as soon as it gets cold, I will start missing the summer and my tan. It's inevitable. The human heart is never satisfied for long with what it has. It's the human condition.

But I don't care. Call me a brat. Today I am sick of being hot and I want it to be fall, dangit.

The end.