All the world over, it's month number nine, September (which actually means seven, right?). Numerical placement aside, "September" is different in different places:
For instance, in Down Under Land, Australia, where they have lots of ancient rivers (see "An Ancient River Called the New", upper right on the cottage blog) it has been winter all summer, so September means that spring is springing for at least some of those friendly folks below the equator. And in India where it's still Monsoon Season, it's September, too. In Russia where they have frozen Siberia, its...you guessed it. September. (Yes, that's the best I could do. I know very little about Russia.) Last but not least, in South America and Africa, which both straddle the equator, it is also September, but with winter on one end and summer on the other.
Very interesting.
It's even September in Central Florida, where I was born and raised. And though my friend Molly tells me that "it's sort of cool here, too," I know that's not exactly true...at least not by my standards. I'm not calling my girlfriend a liar, mind you, because Molly never lies. (She doesn't. She is honest as the day is long!) But her idea of cool is "under 90 degrees". Dear sweet Molly, that's...*writer shakes her head sympathetically, "tisk, tisk, tisk"*...that's not cool.
Yep. September is not the same everywhere as it is in the Blue Ridge, where cool, crisp breezes whisper fall to you with the scent of ripened apples on their breath and the crunch of colorful leaves under your feet...
Obviously, I love the fall! Just the thought of it lifts my spirits and makes my heart beat faster. Just this morning, my son who lives in Boone, called and told me that he can "already smell fall in the air". He said that its cool, and that some of the leaves are even starting to change. So its officially unofficial.
Well, that does it. My sweet husband and I are driving up there tomorrow. We're gonna smell the air and pick up a couple of pretty red dogwood leaves off the ground below the trees. Maybe we'll mozy over to Todd General Store for one of their famous hamburgers. We've never had one before. I think a beautiful early, albeit unofficial, fall day is the perfect day for a hamburger aficionado, such as myself, to have her first ever "world's best burger" (according to the mountain bikers, who know their hamburgers...) in a little General Store along the old New River.
So maybe you're one of those folks who is saying, "It's just September 3rd, so it is still officially summer right now." I hear you; you tell me that every year. And I do not care...'cos I tell you. In North Carolina's mountains when that first sweet, cool breeze washes its breath across my face and catches my hair in gentle fingers, it whispers, "It's me again, your old friend, Autumn".
Welcome back, old friend.
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