A Letter to the Weather

Dear Weather,

I hate to be the one to tell you this, but... it's fall.

I know. You've been having so much fun making us all think summer will last forever and a day. Well I have to tell you: I've not been lulled into complacency. And I won't be. I want my fall days.

Today, the high is 82. Weather, you're being kind of ridiculous. It's time to let go. It's time for crisp days, where we need to bundle up in sweaters and scarves to go gallavanting about in the crunch of leaves underfoot. It's time for a chill breeze, which drives us in from that walk to a cup of apple cider, or hot chocolate, or tea.

Quite simply, it's time that you stop confusing me.

This is the first time in years that I've had a chance to experience the change of seasons that I so dearly love. Where I lived in New Mexico, it certainly got cooler in the winter... sometimes. There was definitely snow... for a couple of days. And the leaves fell from the trees... but not in as broad a spectrum as Wisconsin.

Weather, all I want is my seasons back. Do you realize that there's a high of 52 in New Mexico today? Do you realize that they're getting thunderstorms? I think you have us slightly confused.

I don't care if I don't have the proper clothing to keep me cozy in the chill. I'll finish that dreadful sweater I've been working on, and I'll wear it gladly if it means I can freeze off my nose and scrape the windshield in the morning.

As I think you know, Weather, I'm a little bit crazy. But I think you're even more so right now. I can see you up there, where Weather lives, holding a heat gun in one hand and a freeze ray in the other. I'm cautiously trying to talk you into not putting the weapons down, but switching them from one hand to the other before Wisconsin suddenly gets fried to a crisp and New Mexico has another -20 winter, like last year.

Indulge me on this, will you? Switch the guns around.

Sincerely,
A fan of frigidness,
Allison

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