But here I am again, doing just that. It has to be done, because I'm over the top with glee about something. I'm so thrilled about this something that I had to transcribe it, just to prove to myself that it really exists.
The thing I'm so giddy about?
Winter in North Carolina.
My good googly-moogly y'all, it's going to be in the 60's here today! Turning cartwheels is an appropriate reaction to this bit of news, or if you can't cartwheel then perhaps one could indulge in a long walk with their dogs at a certain nearby state park, as I did yesterday afternoon, when the temps were not QUITE in the 60's, but close enough to make it feel like autumn in January.
You must understand something about me - I LOVE the fall. I love the "just right" temps, the crisp air, the slight chill, the clothes one gets to wear, the smell of woodsmoke, the whole shebang. Every year I get the notion that THIS fall is the one wherein I will finally be able to wear a turtleneck cable-knit sweater and mossy green corduroys with some sort of suede earth-mother-y shoes and go on a walk down a leaf-strewn road in the golden afternoon light, smelling the fallen leaves and letting the brisk breeze blow through my hair, which coincidentally is perfect and frames my glowing face "just so." I have the mental image, and yet, every year that I lived in New England, the fall was too short to work in all these things together into one glorious memory-inspiring moment of perfection.
(I tend to do a lot of imaginary interior decorating of my life. I choose to regard this as a charming quirk).
Imagine my joy, then, when yesterday I made the decision to go take the dogs on a very long walk at a local state park, and ALL THE REQUIREMENTS for the perfect fall day were in place.
"Just-right" temps? Check - in the mid 50's.
Golden sun? Check, just about to set - maybe an hour of good light left.
Woodsmoke smell? Gloriously, check. Someone was looking out for me.
Turtleneck cable-knit sweater? OK, not check, but that's only because I still can't wear anything that touches my neck. (my theory - I was choked to death in a former life. Charming, non?)
Also, no corduroys - I can't risk setting my thighs on fire with the constant friction that would be created.
BUT - great shoes, superior hair, light breeze, leaves, lovely large lake to reflect the setting sun, check, check, check check, and check.
Added bonus feature - nobody else around. And I mean nobody. Not in all 200 hundred or so acres. Apparently nobody else gets the notion to scenically walk their dogs at 4 o'clock on a chilly Saturday afternoon in January in North Carolina, even IF the conditions are just right.
Lawzy, did we have a good time. The dogs got to sniff until theirs sniffers were sore, I got to walk in (or near) the woods until the waning light said "get thee back to thine car" (because the sun, he is a King James version kind of guy), and all was right with the world.
Until, of course, I discovered that it's supposed to be even NICER today.
That, my friends, rocks hard!
Note to New England: honey, you can keep the cold and ice and snow and freezing mittens and runny noses and driveway shoveling and dark afternoons - I'm a SOUTHERN girl now and am never ever looking back. Thanks for the memories - maybe I'll come back in July or so to see how you're doing. Until then, it's me and the tall, tall pines, baby.