And the Rest

20 Sep

There are three season where I live.

Our annual trip to the beach is in August which means that September and October are all about sand.  Sand in the house, car, bathtub, bed, peanut butter, books, couch, clothes, silverware drawer, dishwasher, washing machine and dryer regardless of how often I clean.  As far as I’m concerned, the sand is a reason not to clean.  “You enjoy nature,” I tell spouse, “that bathroom floor is a tropical oasis.”  For as long as we continue to enjoy the ocean in August, September and October will be sand season.

Fall is when the pine needles, like the mice, come inside.  Stuck to shoes, stashed in hoods, hidden in the cuffs of jeans- the needles, not the mice.  The mice, they just nod to the sleeping cat as they saunter down to the basement- we’ll be hearing more from them later.  The needles though, they end up in weird places: in tomato sauce (contributing a slight rosemary essence that is not entirely unpleasant), atop untripped mousetraps and one time a pine needle jabbed me right in the eye while I was mopping the kitchen floor.  I was forced to stop mopping immediately.  “You enjoy nature,” I said to spouse, “it’s like we’re dining amid the redwoods.”  (Do redwoods have needles?)

Pine needle season culminates in December when we bring a whole damn tree inside, light it up and spend the next three months vacuuming.  And when I say “we” I mean “not me.”  I enjoy nature.  Outside.  In its natural habitat where you won’t find “vacuums” and “trees” in the same vicinity.

Winter is what we have the rest of the time.  Winter is like MaryAnn from Gilligan’s Island- she and the professor are left once the headliners are done.  And while everyone knows that MaryAnn, with her level-headed sensibility and boundless energy, would be most helpful if stranded on a desert isle, Ginger is who the boys desire and the girls want to be.  Ginger is summer of upstate New York and who wouldn’t want to be summer in upstate New York?  This place shimmers like a movie star.  For about three hours.  A three hour tour.

Mud season is just a bonus.  It’s how the pine needles and sand get tracked back in and the kitchen floor is “like visiting the Canadian Rockies without leaving the house.”

Dawn Wells recently- there must be a ganga season where she lives.

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