Hamil with Care

Seattle’s Sentinel of the Seasons

Hey, what’s up? Notice how cold it is today? Brrrrr! Haha. Looks like I gotta dig all my sweaters out of the closet. Goodbye flip-flops, hello polar fleece, am I right? I actually had to turn on the furnace for the first time last night. Can you believe it?

I’m calling it now: Summer is over.

When you’re out there floating on an inflatable pizza-shaped raft in the middle of Lake Washington, sipping an ice-cold beer, your fingers interlaced with a lover’s, you think it’ll never end. But then you wake up one morning and the skies have grown dark and Linda’s gone and the next thing you know…

[Sings first verse of the Eurythmics’ “Here Comes the Rain Again”]

Seriously though, Seattle really does not fuck around with these season changes, does it? Boom! It’s over. There’s no question. Look at that sky: grey. It even smells like autumn. Smell it, admit it, you know I’m right.

Summer is ooooovverrrrr.

I can already feel that Seasonal Affective Disorder kicking in, haha.

Oh, and pumpkin spice lattes are back! So that’s a sure sign, too.

[Sings chorus of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Who’ll Stop the Rain”]

I notice you seem irritated. I get that a lot. People don’t want to be reminded that another glorious, sun-drenched season of joy is doomed to a swift end. They don’t want to hear that we’re now on a glide path to seven solid months of drizzle, darkness and depression.

I don’t know why, but I can’t stop harping on it to anyone who will listen: friends, coworkers, people in line at the coffee shop. It gives me a little thrill to be the first one to call it, to see that crestfallen look pass over their faces. In those moments I have at least some small power over the gloomy oblivion that will soon overtake us, some tiny sense of agency in the forward march of time that will grind us all to dust.

It’s kinda my “thing.”

The cherished memories we made in warm weather will fade away, lingering for a moment then dissipating like the smell of Linda’s perfume on my pillow.

Gone now.

Of course, I know there’ll be several more weeks of sunshine left. It happens every year, refuting my too-eager proclamation. But I don’t care! Once I announced the end of summer in mid-August. It turned out I was standing in front of a ventilation shaft and a cloud had momentarily blocked the sun. Did I take it back? Hell no! It was worth it to see the twinge of apprehension on Linda’s face. For that split second I was in control. I held the keys of time. I stood athwart the door between the seasons. I felt so alive!

Ooh, was that a raindrop? I think it was!

You know what that means!


Photo courtesy of Tony Moser.