A Scent of Fall

Summer will not give up in the Carolinas, with temperatures daily of 82-85, cloudless skies, blazing heat from the sun and trees all full of dark and rich green leaves. But I get phone calls from back home (Romania) and mom has almost finished the winter canning and preserving, and dad just finished picking the grapes, and will soon start the wine making. We're going to the local golf tournament this weekend, and that is the first sign of fall here. That event opens up a whole new season of fall fests and activities. The air is crisp and cool in the mornings and at night we watch tv and read a book with the AC off and the window wide open. Crickets are quiet earlier in the night, and flocks of birds cross the skies in the evenings, all heading South. The windows of all shops in town are dressed up in yellow and rust and WalMart is selling pumpinks and gords. Summer may be stubborn, still, but we surely are speeding her way out of the picture with everything else. It's the cycle of life and I'm always fascinated how we obediently go through it every year: without questioning, just trotting along, eyes on the calendar, we know, as we've known for centuries, that after September 21st, we must be getting ready for the winter.