Most people get spring fever. I get autumn fever. Same symptoms, different time of year. Ok. I admit I’m weird.
Autumn always has been my favorite season. Walking among trees full of florescent scarlet and orange, or deep, warm gold and garnet takes my breath away. There’s nothing more beautiful. Fields of daffodils, and hills and trees covered with fresh, sparkly snow come awfully close, but those autumn leaves still take first place.
Deep south autumns are different from Ozarks autumns. Frosts come very late here, so we rarely get whole hills ablaze at one time. The season creeps in by bits and pieces. A leaf here, a tree there–autumn delayed by lingering summer. Sometimes we’ll even find some colorful autumn leaves (along with the occasional spring bulb blooming) in January–when my Ozarks system says it should be deep winter.
So after living in this part of the country for many years, I have learned to relish and be thankful for each individual, glowing leaf as it appears, each separate tree as it finally bucks this southern climate and heads toward its long-awaited winter sleep. I give thanks that I can still see the breath-snatching Ozarks autumns in my memories. And that I still get autumn fever.