If you’re reading this from anywhere near New York, you too are enduring one of the sweatiest summers on record. To say I’m ready for the short five minutes of fall we get in the big apple would be quite an understatement. Even without the heatpocalypic temperatures, I’m not much of a summer person. It’s a rambly, disordered season without any structure. I’m also convinced my Norwegian heritage and possibly related low body temperature makes me especially sensitive to the high temperatures and humidity. Others have scoffed at this seemingly bulletproof logic. Either way, let’s get this show on the road summer, it’s been real.
A planner by nature I have a tendency to constantly be waiting for the next event, another reason why fall and winter is when I truly thrive. The clothes. The not sweating. The activities and events to look forward to. The feeling I get thinking about this upcoming fall and winter is reminiscent of when I was seven and counting the days until Disney World. Somehow, weeks before my family was to depart on said Disney adventure we came in possession of a promotional Disney movie.
Don’t know what that is? Me neither – but imagine you’re seven and a 45-minute preview of THE Disney World you’re ABOUT to visit is dropped in your hands. We were glued to the TV. My brother would pause the VCR as the credits rolled after a viewing and I’d run to the kitchen and microwave more popcorn while he rewound the tape. Sprinting down the hallway, I’d skid to a stop in front of the TV, spilling popcorn and happily enduring the rug burn on my toes as he pressed play for the umpteenth time.
The trip itself was truly magical. The details may be frayed around the edges but there were so many laughs, probably some tears, and at one point my dad and I ended up on a stage dancing with Goofy and Minnie Mouse (shocker). It’s been decades since our Disney trip, so the memories roll in slowly, but the taste of buttery popcorn and a familiar burn in my toes returns in an instant. That’s what looking forward to fall and winter is like for me. I can already smell the first day it’s cold enough to wear a real jacket and count the minutes until I see the snowflakes hoisted above Columbus avenue. The sting that accompanies your first breath each morning is mitigated by the hurried molecular dance that hangs in the air with each exhale. New York city, in a sense, also thrives in the colder seasons. And it certainly smells a whole lot better.
I’ll leave you with a quote from the favorite movie I share with my sister, Shea, “You’ve Got Mail:”
With seemingly no end in sight, just like that, that summer feeling is gone.
The Dog Hair Diaries 