Summer is the most expressive of seasons. Its sultry, sweetish abundance of life is unparalleled by any other time of year. The insect's bows are rosined, the relentless sun is preheated and ready to cook, roses and blossoms spray the hot odor of sex across the entire Hemisphere. Outrageous colors and designs break out, dogs are unleashed, frisbees unfurled, margaritas unglassed, passions unlatched.
We humans are most ourselves, most human and individual, freeest to display to the world just exactly who we are.
Autumn rolls us back into the animals we are, displays to the world (despite our best efforts), just exactly what we
are - beasts seeking protection from our beastlier environment. We are coats, hats, gloves, shawls, a close pressing of hands about the mouth, a swift rushing toward heat. In autumn we are all characterized by this natural response to the elements - this making private our most explicit individualities - underneath so many layers, it's difficult to see the person. This is one reason why I love fall so much: the early settings in of our base nature, the necessary strivings against the personal nullibiety of winter, and our ultimate defeat once every year.
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