I’m heading into the false Autumn of the South.

It is one life’s great ironies that I have spent over two decades here. I love Autumn, I appreciate the beauty and stillness of Winter. I enjoy Spring, and the new life bursting through dormancy.

Instead of four seasons, I have a lot of heat and humidity. Summer has always been my least favorite season, and yet here I am, in the thick discomfort of perpetual swelter.

We will have a cold front this weekend, with temperatures dropping into the high 30’s.

I will pack as much autumnal celebration into these days as I can.

I’ll be wearing woven beanies and warm gloves. Layers of comforting soft clothes, and a scarf. Drinking seasonal hot beverages. Sitting by the fire pit and looking up into the crisp, clear sky.

I’ll turn on the heat in the house.

By Monday, it will be like a sauna again.

I’ll turn the AC back on. I’ll take the top off my Jeep. I’ll put up my hair, and take off the layers.

November is a month that is charged with a lot of emotion, due to a history of many personal losses.

Autumn helps me process my grief. I find comfort in the cooler temperatures. As the cold weather brings out the coats and cozy clothes, I can retreat into myself, layered in protective comfort.

The blustery weather is a reflection of my unsettled thoughts, and I find myself much more introspective.

The leaves – how I miss the leaves changing color! The mesmerizing, swirling spin to the ground. The crackling underfoot. The smell of cold, damp decay. It becomes a solemn foundation for my grief, which is ever evolving.

Instead, things around me look the same, day after day.

I have to go on at least one long drive a year to find the Autumn my soul longs for. Pictures aren’t enough – I enjoy looking at them, but I need all five of my senses involved.

Likewise, my healing has to be more than just emotional – it has to be physical and spiritual as well. When one aspect is missing, the rest still suffer.

I find myself longing for a home near the mountains, where all year long the environmental changes that accompany the seasons will be right outside my doors and windows.

Until then, I have myself steeled for the blues that strike me with the monotony of this protracted summer that keeps me from feeling whole, and stunts my healing.