The Scent of Fall

     I read a book this week that was set on the Chesapeake Bay.  It spoke of back to school and the turning of the leaves as fall settled in to chase away the heat.  I giggled at the differences between our geographical locations.  For me back to school does not symbolize fall.  For many of us below I-20, fall is a pipe dream.  August does not bring relief here but brutalizes and tests faith.  For others, the start of football brings the thoughts of hoodies and bonfires, I think of misters and two a days so treacherous that coaches are trained in the signs of heat stroke. Back to school is a blessing just to be inside while summer rages.
     August brings burn bans and drought.  The June rains are a distant memory as the local lakes seem to shrink overnight.  Their banks expand and grass now browns in the sun where water once stood.  Lawn mowers stand silent as their owners watch once green lawns become crunchy and brittle.  August for those of us on and around the southern plains is all the more terrible as the heat drones on and on with only the threat of heat lightning each afternoon.  First responders keep vigils just in case those fingers of light across the sky brings sparks of destruction with no hint of the blessing of rain to quench parched pastures.  Rancher's and farmer's fields set waiting while they bring in hay from Lord knows where to feed stock who gather under bits of shade, who risk broken ankles to reach water now well within the muddy and treacherous banks of stock ponds.
     Even I have felt the effects of the endless heat.  I have felt tired and cranky. My usual pep brought low by the endless drone of insects and the constant beating of the sun.  Weekends usually spent outdoors with tiller and hoe or lawnmower and clippers are wasted as I simply glare out the window and curse the same Texas sun I once praised.  The thought of going outside after 8 am just too much to bear so I huddle in gloom.  Papers went ungraded, lesson plans seemed daunting and I was so short with my children that they too had become sullen and cranky.
     On Friday, my eldest prepared for the homecoming game and as we all traveled to school, the sky darkened  and the thunder clapped.  The rain began just as the tardy bell rang.  It did not mist or sprinkle but gush.  My students and I huddled at the door between classes and reveled in the glory of that downpour.  That night as I watched from the bleachers, my daughter marched along with the others of the Big Red Band.  I began to giggle again.  They marched through mud and some with out instruments as the damp would do them damage in bright red ponchos that lived up to their name.  Even though the rain continued to fall, the band and crowds alike simply pulled up their hoods on ponchos and rain coats and continued to cheer.   By the fourth quarter, it was barely misting but spirits were still high, soggy but happy.
     This is what we had been waiting for, what our faith said would come.  That first true drenching from the north that would signal the start of fall.  On our drive home it was an orgy of animals in the road, desperate to dance in the rain.  I dodged hundred of frogs and stopped to help turtles reach the other side.  Deer could be seen, their heads tilted up and I slowed my pace even more to revel in nature taking her joy in the slick rain we all so craved.
     Saturday dawned gloomy and the clouds brought more rain but by dark, the clouds had cleared and the stars came out.  A moon clear and bright signaled the first windows to be raised.  The hum of the air conditioner was silent for the first time since April.  By 10 pm, the breeze so cool, I gleefully grabbed my most beloved and worn in hoodie to sit and listen to the night sounds on my tiny porch.  So glorious was the cool that long after the children had given up the ghost and my eyelids barely open, I kept my vigil on the night.
     This morning, I grabbed gloves and gas can and headed outside.  I took a page from Phil and Jase's book and kicked the kids outside as this cool morning seemed too precious to waste on TV and video games.  I tilled the last of the summer plants under and smelled the crisp air and fresh dirt.  I watched my children climb their favorite tree and listened to innocent laughter float on the cool breeze filtered by the rustle of leaves.  I mowed and could not keep the smile off my face as I watched my animals sunning on the freshly cut grass.  Here at last was our relief.  Even now, as afternoon begins to head towards evening, we all stay outside enjoying the sounds of birds rustling and twittering in the trees.  Games of hide and seek, last more than minutes as the sun gently warms and the breeze cools.  It is a gorgeous day! I can not stop smiling and repeating, it is a gorgeous day!  Now hide and seek turns to ninja assassins and even lunch brings them in in only to refuel before the game of tag begins.  No cries of, "Mom, I'm bored," or "Mom, he's cheating," at some video game.  Books are read in the shade of a tree and a walk down the road has been mentioned.
     Summer is not quite over as any who have lived here long know.  Her cruel grip has been lessened but her hold not broken yet.  She will rage again as the weather man tells me we will see 90 degrees by mid week, but her threat is so lessened that I but shrug and leave my hoodie hanging on the bed post.  Her end is near and though she may throw a few tantrums yet, fall is finally scented in the air.  My step feels lighter, my shoulders straighter.  Everything seems brighter, crisper and I know sleep will come late for me as I gather my hoodie around me once more and count stars in the cool moon light.