The past couple of weeks mark the first days of what I call the “Cool Season”. Nestling somewhere in-between SummerFall and Winter, the Cool Season is sleeping under a quilt with the windows open, and morning cups of coffee that warm the hands as well as the spirit. Soon, roadside views will thrill the full turning of leaves and rich color, churning intensely as long as Mother Nature lets it.
The Cool Season is restraint; first-launch leaves, unsure hatchlings whose feathers — not ripe for flight — leap from the nest any way, swooping like Fall, but not quite right. Yet.
In a few days, overnight perhaps, Fall might splash down like a brushstroke from an artist’s wild varnish wash, fixing all things for a little while so we can look at it. Not quite Fall, though. Yet.
It’s the Cool Season.