It's been years, now. We've been confused for years. Just not sure about so many things around here. Not sure how we mountain-loving people ever ended up in the tropics, not sure about the "busy season" being in the middle of winter, not sure about wild coconuts, not sure why 80 degrees almost feels like long sleeves weather (Lord, help us), not sure about planting a garden in October, and, above all, we're never sure by lookin' if it's spring, summer, fall or winter!
There was more than one occasion in the not-too-distant past, when I looked outside my window to see a gray-clouded day with rain coming down, the kind of day that makes you go into the kitchen, set your stockpot on the stove, throw in some veggies, roasted chicken from yesterday's dinner, and a fresh batch of your grandmother's egg noodles. And while that's set to simmer and bubble, you begin making tracks for the couch, library books, and your heavy red afghan, because it is a gray, rainy day.
But, first, you remember that you haven't gotten the mail yet today, so you grab your umbrella, and head out the front door. As soon as the latch closes behind you, something hits you, and you suddenly realize you are not in the middle of a cool, rainy day, but instead, you are in the midst of a hot, stifling humidity that slurps you up whole into a wet, sticky embrace that leaves you fighting for your breath. In the one minute it takes you to tear across the street, grab the mail, and tear back, you have become a sweaty, frizzy-haired mess of a person, and suddenly, you remember that the calendar says that it's summer, and you look down and see that the envelopes in your hand are addressed to you in Florida, and this makes you change your dinner plans all together. Sitting around the table, sucking on Popsicles suddenly sounds much more desirable than chicken noodle soup.
Do you understand our confusion here, people?
If all you'd ever known in your life were the high Rockies of Montana and the rugged landscape of Alaska, you'd be inextricably wrapped in confusion, too. You would.
But, despite all the confusion, I do know that right now, we are firmly entrenched in fall here. I know that because, just a couple weeks ago, the average daily temperature fell by 5 degrees. Don't laugh! Okay, laugh. It is quite amusing that something as simple as that can cause you to come out of your summer hibernation, let your stir-crazy children outside, and enjoy things that everything in you says can only be done in the months of June, July, or August.
Things like this...
boat ride to the island,
where we gathered palm branches,
put 'em in a heap,
lopped their tops,
whittled their ends,
sawed firewood,
built a campfire,
and roasted hot dogs on the beach.
Yes,
autumn is in the air, even in Florida.
For the moment, we're not confused.
P.S. We had to wear our jackets for the boat ride back. Lord, help us! I think we're getting soft!
