If you were in my neighbourhood in Atlanta you’d think it was still summer.
The sun is still out, not that often, but enough to tan me as I jog in and out of the shady trees in the local park and to bring out its coniferous aromas. In my room the air conditioning keeps me cool; the occasional ice-cream is a supplement.
But the leaves are indeed falling. It’s one of the many things I’ve been observing while I’m out doing regular exercise – for once, ha! Every few days, every other day, depending on my definition of ‘regular’ when I wake up in the morning, I’ve had the chance to see the effects of seasons changing. The gardeners have taken out the leaf-blowers, don’t know what they’re really called, to clear the path of brown, crispy curls. The landing rate has increased gradually; one leaf falling during a lap round the park has grown into several from a single tree.
“Well, duh in Autumn they die and by winter trees are naked. What is so special about that?”
For a while I’ve called summer ‘My Season’. In many respects it does, whether you like it or not, belong to me. And here’s why:
- I was a summer baby born July 11th on a hot summer’s day. In London it was reported to have been a high of 41.C
- During wintertime, many take pleasure in wearing chunky garments, wrapping up warm, putting on wellies and all that stuff. I am not a fan. So much effort put into every morning’s wardrobe picks only leaving me looking like a babushka. If I’m honest, I feel and look much better in summer clothes, which proves that I must have been created for summer only.
I thought these were the only two reasons which justified my strong attachment to the middle months of the year. But today I discovered another one! I can’t I never noticed this until now!
The new evidence I share with you right this moment.
I’ve been called many different names throughout my life. Once I even wrote about my awkward meet-and-greet experiences – it’s something I feel increasingly apprehensive about as I grow up – but I don’t think I’ve ever explained the origin of my name. Over the summer a few of my friends learned of its meaning and used it frequently as a replacement for my normal one – YeYe, if you didn’t know already. As a result the nickname was embedded quite deeply in my brain and was thus accepted into my daily thought processes.
In solitude I become very reflective. (Great, now you know when I’m lonely by keeping track of how often I write blog posts.) Sometimes I rewind my memories and play them back to myself:
Your name; is it Chinese? Yes.
What does it mean? Leaf Leaf; one ‘Ye’ translates to ‘leaf’.
Do you you see it now?! Don’t tell me you don’t.
Yes; you do!
Leaves grow and thrive in Spring and Summer, and they die during Autumn and Winter! I rise and fall with them. Oh my goodness.
That the summer season and I are physically, emotionally in tune with one another is now an absolute fact. It creeps me out that I speak of this connection like a romantic and human relationship, but I can’t find a better way to illustrate my point.
Take a moment for this revelation to sink in. Don’t worry, it took me a while as well.
Last mention of bugs, I promise: Torrential rain the previous day brings out the spiders and their metre-long webs to catch the influx of insects. They’ve been hiding from last night’s weather. I seem to been on a flowery, William Wordsworth, hipster orbit right now. Get me out of here please. I’m supposed to be a realistic and rational person. I’m studying law in less than a fortnight, ARGH!