But I like summer a whole lot too. The smell of cut grass, SPF 60, and fake tan, the sound of sprinklers and radios ringing out under the sun, and of course, hollering at kids to close the damn door and stop filling the house with flies. All these things I love. Here in Calgary at least, it's hard to enjoy any moment of summer without the needling awareness of how soon it's going to end.
Maybe that's why I enjoy Fall -- I can let go of my end-of-summer anxiety. The bandage has been ripped off. I can look forward to wearing sweaters, waving to the littles as they leave on the morning bus, and crisp weather runs that pink up my cheeks for hours. Best of all, I know it'll be a whole year before I have to stand in Wal-Mart again with a passel of other crabby back to school procrastinators, suppressing that primitive call to violence a long cashier line seems to incite in all human beings.
Autumn is good writing time too. I can't write in the summer. Random hand scribbled notes and maybe a bit of editing, but that's it. I read a lot in the summer. This July and August, I finished nine books. Now that my literary tank is full, a legion of embryonic ideas are mingling, breeding, and brawling in my noggin. Writing is like a burr hole. It relieves the pressure.
At the moment, I'm preparing to drive my offspring to their first day of school, but I've got plans. Oh yes, I do. My tented fingers and creepish grin are likely accompanied by evil intentions as I prepare to sit down and let the stories pour out.
What about you? Is Autumn your writing season?
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