Don’t fall for Autumn’s tricks
Apparently fall is in the air. That’s what a company advertising to me on Facebook said at least. I think they were trying to sell me pumpkin scented candles or something else equally inappropriate to my tastes.
I honestly don’t think I’ve ever really smelled a pumpkin in the wild. Sometimes I wonder if pumpkin spice is another one of those made-up flavors like blue raspberry. Do people really go around smelling pumpkins?
For me fall’s presence just means I smell the manure near Winco a little less and I catch a pleasant sniff of rotting leaves whenever I skid through a sidewalk coated in their colorful blanket.
This is the time of the year when boots start to make their appearance. Scarfs that have been waiting patiently in the back of the closet start to appear in the streets, and the hardcore hipsters start to look a little less out of place. In July, everyone will notice someone wearing skinny jeans, a scarf, a vest, a flannel shirt and a hat. Now they blend into the crowd.
When you leave for school in the morning it feels like the launch of an arctic expedition. Sometimes I wonder if I should leave a note for my roommates, telling them to call my mom if they find me frozen in a hypothermic ball of misery on the side of the road. Then, inexplicably during the day, the globe somehow spins backwards. I enter my classes cursing this January weather and leave them sweltering in August’s heat.
It’s useless to coordinate your wardrobe around the weather report. You are better off throwing all your clothes in a pile and picking an outfit at random. If you plan for the cold and wear that cute wool sweater and scarf prepare to be sweating off the pounds by noon.
On the other hand, if you cling to these last rays of summer you will soon feel the error of your ways. For those foolhardy enough to continue wearing sandals and shorts as October begins will be met with the harsh reality of a Moscow fall. I proved this to myself last week.
I checked the weather over breakfast and saw a big 70 degrees plastered across my screen. Harkening back to warmer days when the grass was green and the sidewalks clean, I exited my apartment wearing only shorts, sandals and a t-shirt. All was well as I walked down stairs and out of the parking lot.
As I turned my bike out of the parking lot and downhill I could hear a tiny voice in the back of my head: “I have a bad feeling about this.” Unfortunately, that little voice is always there and I have gotten pretty good at ignoring it.
As I picked up speed down the hill I immediately regretted my decisions. I felt like I had been chained, naked, in a wind tunnel that someone had somehow installed inside a walk-in freezer. My toes froze immediately into tiny blue nubs of ice, liable to crack and fall off at any moment. The cold wind whipped tears from my eyes and I could almost hear them cracking as they flew off behind me, freezing before they hit the ground.
I decided to pedal harder, hoping the exertion would warm me up. No such luck. I arrived at class gasping for breath with a core temperature somewhere just below absolute zero.
Moscow in the fall is nearly as unpredictable as a Russian dictator after a few rounds of vodka. Don’t trust her, don’t fall for her sunny ruses. Fall may seem warm and cozy but always remember falling leaves are a signal not only of pumpkin spice lattes and fuzzy sweaters but also of winter’s snow and ice.
Cy Whitling can be reached at [email protected]