Dear Faux Fall,

You are a tease; promising delight but delivering nothing but tastes of heaven that disappear by noon. You fool the golden rod. The sourwood blushes at your promises. But your 55 degree mornings don’t fool me. I know the birds are joyously singing, all of them awake and happier than they have been all summer. I know the lower humidity has captivated the walkers along the trails. Yet, by lunchtime you will snatch away every hope of fall. You will remind us all that summer has not taken leave and I think you will laugh at our naivete.

But here’s the thing, while being a tease is usually an insult, after this hotter-than-blue-blazes summer I am using it as a compliment. Afterall, a taste of heaven is better than waking up to breathe underwater. Sitting on my porch is possible again because of you. And this taste you so casually bring, comes with a promise that we will not be stuck in hellacious temperatures forever. That there is hope real fall will arrive at some point…soon. The leaves will change, the colors will be glorious, sweater weather (my favorite) will arrive, and all will be well.

Today, Faux Fall, you have given me hope. You have pulled me out of my house and into the woods. You have persuaded my words, which have been stuck for some time, out of me and onto the page. Your flirtatious ways have worked a small miracle for me. Words that would not come are flowing. Not with regularity yet, but fall is right around the corner and with the “real” change of seasons, I am hopeful inspiration will follow.

Until then, I will thank you for enticing me with your coy ways. I am grateful. And even though I know your wind will blow out as quickly as you came in, I will enjoy each back-porch morning curled up in my chair…wrapped in a blanket listening to the songbirds.

Sincerely yours,

Desperate for Real Fall