Something in the Air

First comes fall, then comes winter

I had my first taste of fall yesterday. I stepped outside around dusk, and it was no more than 70 F. I know it sounds rather ordinary, and I don’t think I explain this very well, but let me try.

I know fall is coming because I can feel it in my bones. Last night, that happened to be evoked by a slight breeze—a hint of crispness in the air. It isn’t the same as a refreshing, unexpected gust of wind on a sweltering summer day. The chill that comes from this breeze hints at something more imminent — cold weather that will arrive seemingly overnight and become relentless for months on end.

I’ve yet to experience all of the seasons since arriving in Colorado. In a technical sense, I’ve lived through a couple weeks of winter. During that time, I saw a few light coatings of snow, but the outdoor temperature didn’t drop below freezing. From a New Englander’s standpoint, I don’t consider that much of a winter experience.

I did, however, live through an entire spring in Denver. While there were some beautiful days spent outside, it was just as disappointing as it usually is in most places. This is to say that global warming has mostly decimated the “in-between” seasons, making spring feel far too short, including here in Colorado.

As I sit here writing in front of an oscillating fan, it doesn’t bother me so much that this summer day is expected to reach 90+ F again. Having felt that first sign of fall last night, my hope has been restored. I am happiest when I have reasons to stay bundled under blankets while snow is piled up outside, and it’s not as introverted as it sounds.

Spending decades in New England has made me immune to most of the unpleasantness of the cold. It is a non-factor for me, meaning I have the mental capacity to enjoy the actual perks of winter. Give me a window to open on a January evening to hear the silence deafened by snowpack, and I will immediately become the happiest person in the room.

It’s becoming more common for nature to remind us of its sheer power—the ability to change our lives, landscapes, and homes in seconds. I’ve never been terrified of it, though; a storm chaser of sorts. Now that I’ve ventured West, I see no reason to start now.