A Strange Transition

"The seasons change their manners,

as the year had found some months

asleep and leapt  them over."

William Shakespeare

 

What an odd season change it has been thus far, as if one went to sleep in the midst of the steamy, hot blooded summer, rolled over, only to chill and see he was a ghost and fall is here dressed in her leafy gown that is swirling in the wind and changing colors.  On the century earlier this week, it reached or approached ninety degrees.  On today's forty four mile breakfast ride, I wear arm warmers, a vest, and a jacket as well as knickers and my wool gloves.  While I shed the jacket quickly and the day warms to the seventies, it just seems incongruous somehow, as if there should be more of a buffer.  It makes me feel that I have missed something.  One would think by now I would realize that time and seasons slip through one's fingers like sand, always elusive. 

The roads show little of the signs that portend it  is fall.  The occasional black walnut, the occasional persimmon, the occasional leaf.  The trees hint a changing but remain green.  While I have seen a few fields that have been harvested, most remain in the midst of changing from green to yellow.  And few wooly worms cross the road requiring extra diligence on the bike to keep from ending their furry little lives.  

Nobody shows for the ride today but Jon, and we ride what was the first part of the century he put together earlier this summer to the breakfast place.  This time, rather than the short stack of pancakes, I get the omelet.  Jon sticks with the short stack.  It is three medium sized pancakes.  They offer no other.  What would one call a larger stack, I later ask him.  Would it be a tall stack?  

The wind that helped us on the way out pummels us in places on the way back, another sign that fall has, or is, arriving.  I watch as our average pace declines, not really concerned about it, but interested.  Now I understand why I felt so strong on the way out.  Tail wind hero....a term I think I first heard from Greg Smith.

After the ride there is the library book sale and I purchase four books.  Then a wander around the art festival: Chautauqua.  By now the sun is out and I find I am becoming rather hot.  But I enjoy seeing people's creations even though I have no intention of buying any of them.  

On the drive home it again strikes me how the season has and yet has not changed.  Normally it seems more gradual than this year, but fall just arrived on the calendar earlier this week so perhaps it is me.  Regardless, the earth will do what she will do.  And I will ride my bike so long as I am able.