I wish I could say there was a chill in the air tonight. But there’s not.

More like, if you will, a non-heat. On Monday, when the pool was 74 degrees, I took what is most likely the last swim of the year. It felt refreshingly familiar, yet foreign to me. The last time I took a swim, more than four weeks ago, the world was a far different place. Then, the pool was a refuge, an escape, from all the cares of work and the dull drumbeat of daily life.

Now, there’s chaos all around. Chaos before you go in. Chaos waiting for you when you get out. There is no escape.

Here in the Valley of the Sun, it’s a non-month, really. The RV parks are starting to fill up with people from the Dakotas and Canada and other points north, and while there’s not the same blazing heat as May through September, the sun still feels hot.

To me, October shouldn’t feel like that. There ought to be a nip in the air, color in the trees, and the dread sense of winter approaching in the frosty chill of early morning. Summer’s long gone, and winter’s still at arm’s length. yet the sense of change and the closing in of the days, and seasons, and life itself are palpable. I miss that. Tomorrow’s just another warm, sun-shiney day in a series of warm, sun-shiney days.

October, you say? Here it just means if you’re gonna do steaks on the grill, get them started before 5:45 PM; otherwise you’ll be dragging out your flashlight to see when they’re done.

Still, October is a great month for poems and dreaming of places where October means something. Of poems like these:

When all the cows were sleeping
And the sun had gone to bed,
Up jumped the pumpkin,
And this is what he said:

“I’m a dingle dangle pumpkin
With a flippy floppy hat.
I can shake my stem like this,
And shake my vine like that.”

Clouds gather, treetops toss and sway;
But pour us wine, an old one!
That we may turn this dreary day
To golden, yes, to golden!

Autumn has come, but never fear,
Wait but a little while yet,
Spring will be here, the skies will clear,
And fields stand deep in violets.

The heavenly blue of fresh new days
Oh, friend, you must employ them
Before they pass away. Be brave!
Enjoy them; oh, enjoy them!
- Theodor Storm, A Song in October

Of course, there’s also something to be said for brevity. I like this one:

“October’s poplars are flaming torches
lighting the way to winter.”
- Nova Bair

Aaah, winter. Some people flee from it, others seek a chance to embrace it. You don’t know what you’ve got until you lose it. You don’t what you’ve lost until you have it. Kind of a ying-yang thing, don’t you think?

Hat tip: EGreenway