Musings on the cold and fall...

I suspect the chill has settled in. It was 27 degrees this morning. We really need to clean off the deck and put away some things soon. And I hate to; it's over, is the message. The sitting outside in the sunshine part of the year is gone. And now, it's time to think about wool socks, heavy curtains, and being parsimonious about heating oil. 

And it's not that I hate winter, but I find much of what it requires inconvenient. I found myself musing this morning what it would be like to retire. As in, I could get up and shuffle about, attend to house things, read, write, and not worry about boots and hats and heavy coats and scraping windshields and slippery roads and and and... I don't mind winter if I don't have to battle for my place in it. And it feels like a battle, much of the time. Yup, I'm getting old. 

And I can't retire, probably not for at least seven years, so it's a suck it up, buttercup situation. Early retirement? The only thing that would occasion that would be really bad health, and I don't want that. 

I'm pondering too much about endings, I think. My grandmother passed at 61. I'm 60. My mother died at 73. It's not like longevity is in the genes, right? And I have so damned much to do-- not just the mundane stuff, though I'm seriously considering an occasional housekeeper to help-- but I want to write. I always wanted to travel, but that ship sailed. I can't walk well or reliably, so I'm going to have to bid that dream adieu. 

Ah, fall. It brings this on. I'm okay, really, but I can't help thinking that the early darkness is more than physical, it's more metaphor. And each year I'm more and more grateful to get to spring. 

Have a good day, friends. Hold each other close. Keep safe. The world is a scary place.

C