by Phoebe Farag Mikhail

Anne Shirley might be glad for a world with Octobers, and as much as I do love Anne, I do not share her love for the fall season. I don’t begrudge my friends their reveling in pumpkin spiced lattes, sweater weather, and boots, but these don’t excite me. I’m a black coffee drinker and find PSLs too sweet*. I do not enjoy pulling on bulky sweaters and boots. My favorite outfit, my Spring/Summer/Early Fall uniform, is a slip-on cotton dress with slip on shoes or sandals. I don’t even like putting on socks, let alone struggle with boots and an additional layer of clothing.

My bigger reason for disliking the season go deeper than lattes and layers, however. Autumn means winter is coming, and winter reminds me of a trauma: the time I badly broke my ankle in my own driveway while cleaning some snow off my car.

It started as a happy morning. Classes were cancelled at the university I teach at, which meant I could catch up on laundry, grading, and other things in the house that day. I peeked out and told my husband I would just move my car out closer to the edge of the driveway, to reduce shoveling just in case we needed to get out for any reason. I put my bare feet in a pair of old shoes, threw on my coat, and started moving the car. The windshield was still covered in snow, so I got out to clear off that snow, for safety. As I circled the car, my right foot got stuck in a snow drift and I lost my balance.

I heard the crack when I fell. I don’t remember the pain, thank God, but I do remember screaming to get my husband’s attention from inside the house. He called the ambulance and then came out to put a blanket over me so I would not get hypothermia. I ended up spending the night at the hospital and having emergency surgery. I had broken both my tibia and fibula.

It was a long, hard winter. I had to use crutches to get anywhere, and because it never stopped snowing that winter, I didn’t go anywhere. My husband had to do the daily shoveling every morning, with a little bit of help from my four year old son and encouragement from my two year old daughter. The only benefit to all that snow was that many events were cancelled, keeping my husband home to take care of all of us. I withdrew from teaching that semester and sat in bed with my laptop and worked on a consulting contract from home.

As far as traumas go, a broken ankle seems mundane. Still, I would like winter better if we could just all agree to stay home, drink hot drinks, and read books all day. But the world still turns and we in the Northern Hemisphere are still expected to go outside and do things in the cold and potentially dangerous weather, like go to work, run errands, and take our children to outdoor tree lighting ceremonies, to outdoor holiday festivals, and go ice skating (also outdoors). The advent of autumn reminds me that the frigid days are coming, and I don’t take too kindly to this reminder.

Still, living in the Northeast, one cannot help but witness fall’s indiscriminate beauty. Autumn here is admittedly spectacular, no matter where you go. As long as there are trees, there is beauty unhad at any other time of the year. Even major highways, not otherwise known for scenic views, are rimmed with the autumn rainbow, a visual feast that makes errands a delight and road trips a pleasure.

On Sunday’s drive to church, my six year old (who was not around on that fateful ankle-breaking day eight years ago) and I noted all the colors—burgundy reds, bright oranges, golden yellows, and even leaves with yellow/pink combinations. We joked about the overachieving trees that had already shed their leaves, and the still-green trees, now somewhat faded beside their brilliant counterparts, still holding on to summer.

Those green trees remind me of my ambivalence towards autumn. I wanted, like them, to hold on to summer as long as I could. But their more colorful neighbors seem to be saying, “hey, winter is coming, let’s enjoy this while it lasts. Our leaves will fall anyway. Let’s make it worthwhile.”

Maybe my sweater loving friends have it right after all. Like it or not, winter is coming. Let’s welcome it with all we’ve got.

*Ok, I admit I do enjoy pumpkin cream cold brews, though.

My friend Allison Backous Troy at Leaf and Heart Designs crocheted these amazing autumn pumpkins with cinnamon stick stems, and they are helping me enjoy the season, too.