It’s the same thing every season. As we bid farewell to August, and, by degrees, summer, I find myself pining for cooler temperatures and the changing of leaves, the crispness of October and t
By John Dunphy, Managing Editor
Not that it’s been the most brutal of summers. With temperatures barely climbing into the 60s last week, someone dropped from the sky into central New Jersey might think they’d pulled a Rip Van Winkle and slept for a season.
The little treats serve as a tease, a taste, of what is to come. Of course, when what is to come finally does, it will be wonderful. The leaves will change, the temperature will drop, and I can finally use the kitschy sport coat I bought at a thrift store a few months back. It’ll be nice.
And then, I’ll get bored and start thinking about winter, then spring, and so on. It’s the same thing every season.
I distinctly remember yearning for the area to warm up around March and April. Our house’s windows were covered in plastic, which served as the ultimate symbol of the season. I’d had my fill of it. We’d walked our quiet, icy roads, searching for a home that sold firewood. I’d tossed snowballs at the dog, who happily leapt into the air to catch them, as if they were tennis balls. I’d curled up underneath my comforter and electric blanket at night, as the cold beat against that plastic that was desperately clinging to the windows in an attempt to keep energy costs down. Great stuff, but I was now thoroughly quit of winter.
And yet, thinking about it now, as I mentally map out the bike route my brother and I will be taking on a Saturday excursion, these cold clime memories leave me warm and fuzzy. While the thought of a day of mountain biking through Washington Crossing State Park has got me psyched, the thought of a mug of hot cocoa against a backdrop of wind-whipped snow, over a good book sounds pretty darn nice, too.
The key, of course, is to enjoy what we have now and not always think about the green grass that’s oh-so-tempting on the other side. When it’s a cool, comfy 70 degrees in late August, it’s pretty counterproductive to wish for 30 degrees in December. How many times did I groan and moan in college when, with a backdrop of wind-whipped snow, a wind-whipped John Dunphy trundled his way from one end of Alfred University to the other, in one of those perpetual western New York winters?
And yet, thinking about it now, these cold clime memories … wait, what am I saying?
I think I’ll go check the air pressure on my bike.
John Dunphy is managing editor of The Lawrence Ledger. He can be reached at [email protected].