After learning about The Magic Flute and French Revolution music in my Liberal Arts class, I step outside into, what seems to be, a snow storm.
That's right -- snow. In October. Snow that doesn't melt the second it hits the ground.
My initial reaction was utter disgust.
Why on earth are we having stupid snow in stupid October?
I was walking up to the intersection when I was thinking this. I started counting the winter months.
I mean, come on, we have guaranteed winter in November, December, January, February, and most of March, so why is the snow falling now?
I am stomping up the hill, speeding up my walk in order to get home faster. I see the house number 53, a house I usually look at on my way up, and that is when it hits me.
It was beautiful outside. The snow wasn't just flakes of snow; the snow was coming down in clumps. Tons of snow everywhere was landing softly on the grass and on the roof. Number 53 never looked prettier. My heart felt lighter, and I smiled.
Ooh, look at how amazing this looks.
I stopped in my tracks and took a large breath of air. I slowed down my walk, so I could enjoy the lovely, falling snow. Everything looked so peaceful.
Not long after that, I was hit with another feeling. A feeling of Christmas. Woah, I know.
Now, as nice as Christmas can be, it is downright awful to feel this way in October. Feelings of Christmas and the holidays started to ripple through my body. I hastily tried to shake them off. Too early. Don't. Start. Thinking. Of. This.
I mean, Hallowe'en still hasn't passed! It's not that I want Christmas now; I surely do not. I want more of fall. I need more fall air.
Walking up the driveway, I tried to sort out how I really felt about this snow. I reasoned.
Alright, this is simply snow. It is unusually early, so that means that it will melt. This snow will not last long. We will still have some good fall weather in November. Stop panicking. Remember the greenhouse effect.
In reality, thinking of the greenhouse shouldn't have comforted me. But hey, it did.
I find it particularly interesting as to how much I associate the weather with past memories and with specific feelings. Fall is often a very good season for me. It is probably in Fall and Spring that I feel I can accomplish the most. Summer is just too fun and carefree. Winter is when I get contemplative, think a lot, and write a lot. I really love every season, not just for its memories that it induces and its seasonal activites it offers, but also for its capability to make me feel just a little different and a little revitalized when a new season arrives.