Every summer, I inevitably catch a glimpse of my winter riding gloves and ask myself how I can possibly stand having to wear those things. From the glow of summer, I think back to days where even in all their insulated glory they failed to keep my fingers warm and I cannot fathom how the heck I ever go from glorious summer riding to the depths of winter–rainy, cold, dark.
It turns out the answer is fall.
These days of sometimes-rain, sometimes-wind, always-crisp, invigorating fall make the transition from summer to winter bearable. They give me time to get used to rain slowly, to ease into the season of fenders, rain pants, booties, wet gloves. More than that. They make me excited for the weather’s turn. The drama of rain clouds interspersed with sun, the glint of sunset on fall-colored leaves, the feel of reddened cheeks and the coziness of a cup of tea: all of these I look forward to, while the excitement of summer slowly slips away unnoticed.
It’s not that I forget about how amazing summer here is, it’s that I’m equally excited for fall. And then once fall blends imperceptively into winter, I’m already there, and it’s okay.
I always forget from one year to the next, but that’s how I make it from summer to winter. Fall.