I don’t know about all y’all, but fall is my favorite season. Those days of triple-digit heat are over and cooler weather is finally here, at least today while I’m pecking at this here keyboard. Football season has begun and before you know it, Christmas music will be heard in retail stores. Some of y’all who might’ve recently moved to Texas from New England or other northern states might not realize autumn has actually arrived. We might not have the beautiful fall foliage you’d see in the Allegheny Mountains or the Smokies, but there are definite signs that it is autumn in Texas.
As a public service, I think I should educate y’all newcomers to our great state on ways to identify the change of seasons here. I don’t care what the calendar says. You know it is fall in Texas when:
You spend an hour every day scooping leaves and acorns out of your swimming pool.
You wake up on Sunday morning with a sore shoulder from tossing around the football with your grandson on Saturday.
You grab your chainsaw and start looking for something – anything – to cut down.
You buy a calendar just to keep track of what day and time the Cowboys play.
You take down the American flag in your front yard on Saturday mornings and replace it with a tattered flag from your favorite college team.
You go to open up the coat closet and look all the jackets you wore once or twice last winter.
You stock up on allergy medication knowing cedar fever season is fast-approaching.
You have a third cup of coffee out on the deck because you aren’t sweating yet.
You start thinking about winterizing your lawnmower but reconsider after hearing the weatherman say it should be back in the 90s by Monday.
You go for a leisurely stroll through the woods with a rifle slung over your sore shoulder just in case a feral hog appears.
You stock up on ibuprofen and Ben-Gay knowing arthritis season is fast-approaching.
Your trash can is so full of political crap you find in your mailbox that you have to buy another trash can for your empty beer cans.
As you are sipping coffee on your porch, wearing a sweatshirt and shorts in 59 degree weather, you start thinking about wrapping the pipes at the water troughs.
You switch from light beer to heavier lagers. I don’t know the logic behind this, but I do it every fall.
You cut more logs and stack them on the logs you cut the past two years because you haven’t used the fireplace in three years.
You stock up on Tennessee whiskey knowing sometimes ibuprofen and Ben-Gay just don’t do the job.
You have to scrape dead bugs off the screens so the cool breeze can finds its way through your open windows.
You start pulling Halloween decorations towards the front of your shed and toss the pool floats back behind the Christmas decorations.
You pull your long johns out from the cedar chest knowing you’ll need them once the temperature drops down to 52 degrees.
Yep, it’s fall alright. I’ve shot my first hog of the season, wore a jacket while drinking coffee at sunrise, cussed and cheered the Cowboys on the same day and just ordered more Halloween decorations from Amazon. Oh, how I do love autumn.
As Clint Younts said, “Some birds might fly south for the winter, but the Crow stays at home.”